In the Woods
by Oprah Winfrey
Summary: A serious case of writer's block, an isolated cabin in the mountains, and a mysterious, surly stranger who is not looking for company. Mature Content. Very AU.
1. Chapter 1

**_AN: I couldn't fit it into the summary, but this story could be categorized as Romance/Mystery/Supernatural/Angst. Very AU. Rated M for very graphic language and adult content. However, this is NOT a porn without a plot. Not that there's anything wrong with that. :)_**

* * *

><p>IN THE WOODS<p>

CHAPTER 1

"What the fuck do you want?"

This can't be right. I glance down quickly at the address written in Esme's looping script confirming that yes, this is my editor's vacation house. It's everything she said it would be; charming, quiet, secluded, perched atop a mountainside with breathtaking views. The perfect place for me to get over my severe case of writer's block and finally finish my novel that was due oh...six months ago.

She made no mention of any irritable, possibly homicidal, neighbors. The over six-foot-tall bearded mountain man that is looming over me looks absolutely furious, like he could shoot me right now and then feed me to his pet grizzly bear for supper. I'm eyeing the shot gun he's casually holding in his left hand and debating my next move. I wonder if it's loaded?

I guess I'm taking too long to answer because the mountain man says, "Whatever. I don't care," and stalks to the front door, abruptly slamming it in my face.

I whip out my phone to call Esme and see if she is aware of any crazy people squatting in her cabin. Crap. No bars. I saw no other houses on my way up here and it's an nine mile hike back to civilization. I sigh and raise my fist to knock again. Silence. I wait a few minutes and rap loudly, three more times. Still no response. I find the keys Esme gave me and am just fitting it into the lock when the door swings open.

"Why are you still here?" Mountain man asks, sounding bored. He doesn't look like he wants to kill me anymore. He glances down at my keys, eyes narrowing. "How the fuck did you get keys to my house?" He grabs my wrist and tries to wrestle the keys from my hand.

"Don't touch me!" I shriek just like they taught me in my YMCA self-defense class. I scramble to remember the handy acronym that they teach. KISS? KYP? No. Not so handy when I can't remember it when I need it most. In the time that it takes me to remember that stupid acronym, Mountain Man could have made off with my purse and my V-Card. If I still had it, that is.

SING! That's it. Stomach, instep, nose, groin. I go into a defensive stance, and with all my might, hit my would-be attcker in the stomach. It's like hitting a wall. Instep is next. What the hell am I supposed to do here? I kick at his foot, which does exactly what I expect, absolutely nothing. I raise my fist to hit him in the nose but he easily dodges my fist. My attacker is not intimidated in the slightest, rather, he seems vaguely amused. I am as ineffectual as a newborn puppy. I raise my knee to hit him in the groin. He backs away from me with hands up in the air. Apparently, the element of surprise is not in my arsenal of weapons.

"Are you done?"

"Yes." For now.

"Fuck lady, I wasn't going to hurt you. I just want to know who you are and why you have my keys?"

"Esme Cullen gave them to me. She said I could stay here for the winter."

Realization dawns on his face, soon replaced by irritation. "Esme fucking Cullen," he mutters, running his hands angrily through his reddish-brown hair. He's still cussing under his breath but decides to ignore me again, walking into the house and stomping up the stairs. I'm not quite sure what just took place so I pick up my bags and follow him inside.

The cabin is gorgeous. Beautiful hardwoods and high ceilings with exposed beams. The decor is rustic, but not in a tacky dead animals everywhere kind of way. Tall windows line the entire back wall if the house, breathtaking views of the forest surrounding us. The living room is dominated by a large fireplace, with an artfully stacked pile of firewood beside it. It would be absolutely perfect, if not for the crazy man upstairs. I can hear him ranting and raving, coming down the stairs yelling into an enormous satellite phone.

"What the fuck Esme? How are you going to tell some random girl that she can stay in my house?"  
>He's looking directly at me and not even bothering to hide his disgust. What an ass. I roll my eyes at him.<p>

"Yeah, she's here. I don't give a shit if she hears me."

He shoves the phone at me and stalks off to the kitchen.

"Hello?"

"Bella honey are you alright?"

"I'm fine Esme."

"I am so so sorry! I had no idea Edward was back, he never tells us anything. If I had known I would have never sent you up there alone to deal with him."

The name rings a bell, I vaguely remember a conversation about Esme's "rather difficult" stepson. I can see now she was being rather generous in her assessment. She sounds so distraught I can't really be mad at her. I turn my anger to a much more convenient target. The "rather difficult" Edward is now sitting across from me nursing a tumbler of whiskey, still glaring daggers.

"Esme it's fine. It was an honest mistake, you just didn't know."

"Oh Bells, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay. Seriously. I'll just walk back to town and stay at a hotel for the night and catch the next bus out of here. I'll be fine."

I glance out the window at the sun hanging low in the sky. Hopefully if I leave now and hike back quickly, I'll find a room before dark. Maybe the asshole sitting next to me will lend me a flashlight. Probably not. Esme is suspiciously silent on the other end.

"Hello? Esme?"

"There aren't any hotels?"

"I'm sorry? What did you say?"

"There are no hotels in town."

"That's okay. I'll be fine with a motel or a bed and breakfast or something. I don't need anything fancy, it's just for one night."

"I'm sorry honey. What I'm saying is there aren't any hotels or bed and breakfasts, nothing around for miles..."

Of course there aren't any hotels, why would there be? Her words are just starting to sink in, the panic beginning to rise in my throat. I raise my gaze to look at Edward who's still wearing that same perpetually annoyed expression.

"It's just one night Bella, I'm really sorry. Please let me talk to Edward."

I pass the phone to him. He regards me as Esme speaks to him, coolly eyeing my body up and down and not making any attempt at subtlety. I glare back at him, wrapping my arms protectively around myself.

"I heard. No, it isn't okay."

I can't hear exactly what she's saying but Esme's tone is getting increasingly more hysterical. Edward wears a pained expression as he holds the phone away from his ear.

"Okay! Just stop! She can stay the night."

Edward runs his fingers through his messy locks. This dude is seriously hairy. Between that mop on his head and that crazy beard, he's giving off a major caveman vibe. He's much calmer, it's as if a switch has been flipped.

"Yeah, yeah. I know. Okay Esme, I love you too. She's right here."

I eye him warily as he hands me the phone. "Bella sweetie, If Edward gives you any trouble, feel free to smack him for me, okay? "

Esme apologizes for the mix-up a dozen more times before letting me go. It's too quiet when I hang up the phone. He says nothing, just picks up my bags and heads up the stairs, motioning for me to follow. He leads me down a narrow hallway to the last door on the left. Edward places my bags on the ground in front of what presumably is my room and then walks away without another word.

It's just one night. How bad could it be?

Now that the mountain man has a name and I've determined that he probably isn't going to kill me, I wonder if it's safe for me to investigate the delicious aroma coming from downstairs. I haven't eaten in hours and after a long travel day I'm absolutely famished. I've killed some time showering, but it's way too early for bed. A low angry rumble from my empty belly makes the decision for me.

Edward has his back to me, ladling something into a bowl. What should I say to him? Hello asshole, sorry to be such a nuisance? Feed me before I pass out? He walks over to the dining table with two bowls. He sets one closest to where I am hesitating in the doorway, then sits down and tucks into his own meal.

It smells amazing. It tastes even better. After that first bite passes my lips, I let out an involuntary moan of pleasure. I pray that he didn't hear that slip out, but the smirk on his face says otherwise.

"Oh be quiet," I spit out, my cheeks on fire.

"I didn't say anything."

He chuckles softly to himself. I decide to ignore him and focus on the unbelievable bowl of food in front of me. He may be a rude jerk, but a rude jerk that clearly knows his way around a kitchen. It's gone in an embarrassingly short amount of time. Edward picks up my bowl and refills it without another word.

After dinner he pours himself another glass of whiskey and without asking does the same for me. I eye the dark amber liquid in my glass before taking a tentative sip. It burns my throat and tastes of wood, smoke, and leather. The only sound is the fire crackling and the wind through the trees. The whiskey warms my belly and I relax a bit, sinking deeper in my chair. It's oddly comfortable sitting here in silence with this rude, hairy stranger.

"Why are you here?"

His green eyes fixed on me, but the words aren't said in an antagonistic way.

"I'm working on my novel, and Esme knew I needed a quiet place to stay."

"You can't write in your own house?"

No, I can't write in my own house, nor anywhere else for that matter. I don't know how deeply I want to delve into this. I settle for vague.

"It's...complicated. I'm kind of... between residences at the moment. Look, I'm sorry to disturb you like this. If I knew this house was occupied, I never would have come here. I know its probably a big pain in the ass having me here."

Edward's still looking at me, his expression inscrutable. I keep waiting for some kind of response, but apparently none is forthcoming. He shifts his eyes back to the fireplace, mulling over my words. Edward has been silent for a long time. I glance over to check if he's still awake. We lock eyes for a moment and I quickly look away.

"You really have no place to go?" he asks in a low voice.

I can't bring myself to say it out loud, so I just shake my head.

Again he says nothing but I'm relieved. I don't feel like answering any more questions. Edward leans over and refills my glass once again, and then tops off his own. By the time I reach the bottom of my glass, the fire has died down and my eyelids are beginning to droop.

Edward rises and announces, "I'm going to bed." I follow him up the stairs and as we head to our respective rooms, he says quietly, "Bella Swan, you can stay as long as you need to.". He goes to his bedroom and shuts the door before I can respond.

How did he know my last name?

* * *

><p>I've been here for two weeks now. Esme was right. As usual. This place was exactly what I needed, I just didn't know it. It's quiet here. My mind feels clearer somehow. There's something about the crisp and verdant air, sticky sweet with the smell of redwoods. All that anxiety from real life that had been occupying the space in my head has been replaced by the cool dense fog that cloaks everything here.<p>

I'm enjoying being mindless for a while. I spend my days taking long walks with no end destination. I climb the smooth rocks by the shore and try not to slip and fall into the frigid water. I read novels and have long soaks in the bath. I eat the simple but delicious food Edward leaves me and wonder where he's disappeared to.

He's not an asshole anymore but he's not exactly friendly. Edward is gone the majority of the day, where to, he never says. When he is around, he ignores me. If I hadn't been on the receiving end of his anger that first day, I would have assumed he was mute. He does feed me. Surprisingly well, to the point that I'm sure I've put on a few pounds since my arrival. I tried to watch him cook once but he left the kitchen and didn't return for a several hours, so now I stay out of his way. Instead of contemplating Edwards whereabouts, I should be working on my manuscript. I mean to, I really do, but I always find a convenient reason not to.

I'm currently soaking in my favorite excuse of late, an enormous hot tub on the back deck. It's the perfect spot to watch the fog roll in in the evening. I leave my ipod on and close my eyes and try not to think about manuscripts, ex-boyfriends, and all of my other recent failures.

I jump when I feel the earbuds plucked out of my ear. Edward is only a few inches away from my face, moving my ipod away from the water. I must have dozed off because I didn't hear him climb in.

"Thanks. It was probably stupid to fall asleep with it on."

I'm a little self-conscious with so much skin exposed around Edward. He's not even looking at me though, he leans back against the tub with his eyes closed. He's not bad looking, I think. It's hard to tell with that grizzly man beard covering three-quarters of his face. I let my eyes drift lower. He's naturally fit, lightly muscled from physical labor like chopping wood and whatever it is that mountain men do. Not a gym rat body like someone who I'm trying to not think about right now.

Edward's eyes are open and he's watching me. I blush and avert my gaze.

When the silence gets to be too much, I blurt out, "What's with the beard?"

His hand goes to his chin, and he strokes the hair there lightly. "I hate shaving." He pauses. "Women like it."

I wonder what kind of women he dates up here. I've been here for over two weeks now and I have yet to see another soul. They probably wear a lot of camouflage.

"Doesn't it tickle?"

Edward isn't smiling but he looks amused. "That's kind of the point."

My eyes widen and my face flushes.

"Oh."  
>Now we are both picturing Edward's face and beard tickling...certain parts of a woman's anatomy. Heat floods my lower body. God, it's been too long. I have to get out of here before I do something stupid.<br>I stand to move, no longer worried about how much skin I'm showing, I just need to get out of here. Edward grabs my hand.

"Don't go. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"It's fine. You didn't make me uncomfortable."

His hand is still holding mine. But now his eyes have drifted lower, to my breasts which are directly in front of his face. He traces one long finger lightly along the fabric of my bikini top. I freeze.

"Take this off."  
>My eyes flicker up to his face. He's waiting, absolutely certain I will do it. He finds my nipple and pinches it lightly through the fabric. "I want to see your tits."<p>

Its not too late for me to run back inside and pretend none of this ever happened. Before I can think too much about the mistake I am about to make, I pull the strings of my top and it comes apart in my hands. Edward is watching me, impassive as ever.

"The bottoms too."

I untie the sides and step out if my bottoms. I'm now standing completely bare in front of him. His eyes rake over my body, lingering for a long time over my breasts, my hips, the space between my legs. He's barely laid a finger on me and yet my skin already feels too hot, like an overripe peach.

"Turn around."

I don't know where this coming from but I am suddenly putty in his hands. I turn around.

"Bend over."

I close my eyes and swallow a deep breath. I don't know if I can do this. I don't have sex with strange guys I barely know.

"Bend over Bella. I want to look at your pussy."

That low deep voice, saying those dirty words are my undoing. I lean over the tub, holding on to the edge. I've never felt so naked, so exposed. No one has ever looked at me like this before. I feel a little shame, mixed with excitement. It's almost embarrassing how aroused I am and he hasn't even kissed me. I can feel the wetness between my legs. Knowing Edward is just inches from my arousal just just intensifies it. He stares at me for what feels like hours.

I turn my head to look at him. He stands, dragging his trunks down and pulling out his erection. I feel the thick head of his cock at my entrance, rubbing at my heat. Without another warning he slides his cock deep inside me, filling me completely.

He pulls out and I whimper at the loss, but then he slams back into me. He fucks me harder and for once I am glad there are no neighbors around to hear me getting fucked by Edward Cullen. I've never been this vocal before but i find myself begging Edward to fuck me harder and deeper. His hands find my tits and begin pinching my nipples roughly as he pushes into me. His right hand drifts lower, till he finds my clitoris and massages it with two fingers.

"I want you to come Bella..."

He pinches me lightly and I'm done. Pleasure and heat flood every inch of my body and I am utterly spent. Edward moans, pulling out of me and coming all over my backside.

I step out of the tub and feel Edward's gaze on me. The air is cool on my skin. I realize I forgot to bring a towel and will now have to walk back in still soaked. I turn toward the house and then I feel large hands draping a towel over my shoulders.

"Thank you," I say quietly.

* * *

><p>I pause a moment before walking down the stairs the next morning, only letting out the breath I'd been holding when I realize I am alone. Just like every other morning. Things should be different somehow. But the house is as silent and empty as ever and Edward has vanished again. I didn't expect him to be here when I woke. Absurdly, stupidly, I'm a little disappointed to have my expectations met.<p>

I set water to boil on the stove and scoop out enough beans for a pot of coffee. I've only had a single one night stand in my life. I didn't find him particularly attractive, but he was there and he liked me and it seemed like a good enough reason at the time. I felt numb after it was all over and left him snoring in his tiny studio apartment. I never saw or spoke to him again, which was perfectly fine with me.

This is my second, I suppose. But this time I'm living with the guy and not seeing him again is an impossibility. Not speaking, perhaps.

I close my eyes, taking in the aroma of fresh coffee emanating from the whirr of the electric grinder. When I open them again, Edward has entered the house carrying a load of firewood. His cheeks are ruddy from the morning chill. He looks...hesitant? A little unsure perhaps, of how I'm going to react.

"Coffee will be ready in a few minutes."

He sinks down at the kitchen table, still looking a little uneasy. I slide a mug over to him. Black, how he takes his coffee. I plop two cubes of sugar into my own before sitting down across from him.

"So... I guess this means you should meet my Dad?" I ask, taking a sip from my mug.

His eyes widen in horror, glancing surreptitiously at the door as if planning his escape. I stare him down a little longer, enjoying his discomfort and when I can't stand it anymore erupt in laughter.

When he realizes that I'm not expecting anything from him, Edward finally relaxes. I might even detect a hint of a smile underneath that ridiculous beard. Seriously, I need to find out what the deal with that is. It's beyond Brooklyn lumberjack and is slowly creeping into Tom Hanks in _Castaway_ territory. But after last night, I don't know if I can ask him that question.

A few scenes from last night flash through my mind and I feel a blush creeping up my face. Before embarrassment can overtake me, I shove the feeling aside. Its just sex. It doesn't mean anything. The fact that he fucked me last night shouldn't stand in the way of us not talking and generally avoiding each other unless absolutely necessary.

I guess Edward feels the same way, because when I look over at him he is as composed and aloof as ever. He finishes his coffee, giving me a little nod before heading outside again.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

He left a note on the kitchen table.

_Taking care of some business. Back in a few days._

I had planned on ignoring him. Acting like nothing had happened. I never got a chance because he disappeared before I could give him the cold shoulder. I wonder if he's coming back at all. Or if I will be gone by then.

* * *

><p>I used to wake up to the sound of the El rumbling past my window or car horns blaring. A construction crew, drilling or bulldozing at some ungodly hour. Here it is just quiet. If I listen very carefully, I can hear the ocean waves hitting the rocks a few miles off. I've been drinking my morning coffee outside lately. Wrapped up in a warm wool blanket with a mug in my hand, it is my favorite part of the day.<br>I turn my head at the slight movement to my right.

Just like that, he's home.

Edward is passed out in the red adirondack chair, looking disheveled. I shake him lightly but he doesn't open his eyes, only grumbling something unintelligible. He has dark purple shadows under his lids and from the alcohol seeping from his pores, it smells as if he's been drinking nothing but whiskey for the entire time he had gone missing. I tug at his arm but he refuses to get up. He's too big for me to drag in the house so I drape a blanket over him before walking inside.

I sip my coffee by the window, watching the steady rise and fall of Edward's chest. I've been carrying that note in my pocket for a while. I don't know why. I was almost convinced that this mysterious, silent stranger was something my restless mind had conjured up. That slip of paper, the neat elegant script, was proof of his existence.

I should stop watching him sleep. It's totally creepy. After I'm certain Edward is not going to drown in his own vomit, I decide to go for a run. The fancy sneakers I bought are still brand new, untouched from when I packed them a few weeks ago. I thread the laces through the eyelets perfectly, until they look like they should belong in a Nike ad and feel a tremendous sense of satisfaction. This is the new Bella. Someone that goes for daily runs and takes care of herself and finishes books. I step outside, calling out goodbye to Edward who is still slumped in his seat, completely unresponsive. He probably doesn't hear me anyway.

I make it as far as the entrance to the main road before the wheezing and the cramps start. And then I remember why I don't exercise. It's hard and boring and I suck at it. So I turn and walk back to the house. Edward's chair is empty but the rusty red pickup truck parked haphazardly in the lot confirm that I didn't imagine his return.

I'm not a genius in the kitchen like Edward but I'm a fairly proficient cook. I suspect he's going to need something to soak up all that alcohol. I don't know what he likes so I make a little of everything. Eggs, bacon, fresh squeezed orange juice. I'm feeling ambitious and even manage to bake a batch of scones. I sit down at the table, feeling pleased with myself.

Like a moth drawn to the flame, the scent of frying bacon seems to have lured the elusive drunk downstairs. I pause with a forkful of food in midair. Without so much as a hello, I watch as Edward helps himself to generous portions of everything. He tucks into his food, completely at ease. As if he didn't disappear without warning, and then suddenly reemerge days later passed out in the back porch stinking of alcohol.

Knowing it probably isn't likely that I'll get any explanation out of Edward Cullen anytime soon, I decide to finish my breakfast and save the interrogation for later.

* * *

><p>I've been replaying that night over and over again in my head. I cringe a little. A hot tub? Really? So cliche and awful, like some terribly trashy reality show. And I can't even blame my poor judgement on alcohol. But if I'm being really honest with myself, tawdriness aside, I don't regret it.<p>

"Bella?"

Edward's leaning against the doorway, holding a pair of scissors.

"Do you know how to cut hair?"

"Yeah. I do. Do you have a comb?"

I find a plastic garbage bag and cut a hole in the top. Edward raises an eyebrow at the pathetic makeshift cape in my hands. Wordlessly, he tugs his shirt over his head and drops it on the floor. He sits down at the chair in front of the bathroom mirror. I'm trying not to be too obvious about staring at his bare chest. And his well-defined abdominal muscles. And that faint line of hair trailing down from his navel.

"What do you want me to do?"

He shrugs. "I don't care. Just cut it off."

I used to cut Charlie's hair. A natural frugality and a complete lack of vanity led my dad to think that DIY haircuts from his twelve year old daughter were somehow a good thing. After a few botched attempts, I eventually got the hang of it and could wield that flowbee with panache and style. I graduated on to more sophisticated cutting instruments that did not feature an attached vacuum.

I snip at Edward's locks, glancing every so often at his image in the mirror. He's dispassionate. Bored even. His hair color is really quite pretty, a coppery reddish-brown. I'm surprised I never noticed, seeing as there is so much of it. It looks as if he hasn't cut it in at least a year. With every cut, Edward is beginning to look less and less like a caveman. I decide to keep it a little longer on the top, short and neat on the sides.

When I finish, I place the scissors on the counter and survey my work. He looks right at me in the mirror with those striking green eyes.

"The beard too."

"Really?"

He nods. I can't say I'm not curious to see what I'm going to find under all that hair. I hop on the counter, picking up the scissors again. I grab a handful of hair and clip off a good six inches. It's incredibly satisfying.

Edward has no shaving instruments, so I grab my skintimate shave gel and lather up his face. He smells like strawberries now. With my pink razor, I carefully shave Edward's face, holding his jaw gently in my other hand. It's a little disconcerting having him watch me as I work, his eyes trained on my face the entire time, only inches away from my own. A face begins to emerge, a strong masculine jawline, cheekbones sharp and defined, full, almost pouty lips. When I finish, I wipe his face with a damp cloth until all the foam is gone.

I'm staring. I know it. I should look away but I can't. I don't know what I expected to find, but it certainly wasn't this. Edward is handsome. Beautiful even.

He gives himself a cursory glance in the mirror before returning to me.

"Thanks."

"No problem. I should clean this up," I say, looking at the pile of hair on the floor. A flowbee would come in handy right now.

"I'll take care if it."

He stands, extending a hand to help me down. I slide off the counter, suddenly very aware of Edward's nearness and lack of clothing, even though I just spent the last hour touching him.

"How does it feel without all that hair?"

He pauses, considering his words. "Lighter."

I don't know why, but this makes me smile. I have an intense urge to run my fingers along his newly smooth jawline but I resist.

* * *

><p>I want to fuck Edward Cullen.<p>

It took me a while to finally admit it. He is a stranger to me. He barely speaks to me. And when he does, it looks like it pains him to open his mouth and talk. He disappears for days without warning. He drinks too much, I think. I don't even know what he does for a living. He's weirdly territorial in the kitchen.

He knew my name. He has the most intense green eyes.

I've never been fucked like that. Never. No man has ever made me feel the way Edward Cullen did.  
>I'm standing in the personal health aisle of the grocery store. We haven't spoken of that night. Edward hasn't made any more sexual advances. Hell, he hasn't even been friendly. None of this matters. I'm not looking for another boyfriend. I just want sex. With Edward. Before I can talk myself out of it, I grab the Magnums and throw them in my basket.<p>

When I meet him at the checkout line, ignoring my protests, Edward takes my basket and adds them to his items. When he gets to the condoms, he falters for a moment when he realizes what they are but places them on the counter. His eyes flicker to my face and I blush. So much for subtlety.

I help him load up the truck and climb back inside. We had spent the forty minute drive up here in silence, but I didn't mind. There was plenty to look at through the window, acres and acres of grapevines and olive trees. Brown and white horses with their thick winter coats. Miles of mountains and sky passing us by. Edward drives with one hand on the wheel, every so often he'll look over at me. I pretend not to notice.

We are slowing down. Edward pulls over but we are nowhere near the cabin. I look over at Edward as he turns off the engine.

Edward turns to me, but he's looking down at the floor and not my face. "Look, I don't want you to get the wrong idea. That night, I...that shouldn't have happened."

It stings a little. The old Bella probably would have burst into tears at this point, but I surprise myself by maintaining my composure.

"Why? Do you regret it?" I ask quietly.

The answer will probably hurt but I'm feeling oddly detached. Maybe a little reckless.

"No," he admits after a while.

"I don't regret it either."

Edward looks down at the ground. "I can't be your boyfriend. I can't be anyone's boyfriend."

"I don't want a boyfriend, Edward. I've had enough fucking boyfriends to last me a lifetime." He looks up at me, surprised. With a boldness I don't quite feel, I look him straight in the eyes and tell him "I just want to fuck you. That's all. Nothing more, nothing less."

This is where he's supposed to respond to me. Isn't this what most guys dream of? I'm offering him no strings attached sex but Edward isn't most guys. He does a very Edward thing and infuriatingly says nothing. The mask slips back on and his expression is unreadable. He turns away from me, staring straight at the road ahead. Without another word, Edward turns on the truck and drives us back to the cabin.

We unload the truck, carrying the groceries back to the house. I'm such an idiot. Edward clearly thought it was a mistake and I was stupid enough to proposition him anyway. So pathetic. All I want to do is crawl up to my room and pack my bags and go. But perversely, I force myself to stay and put the groceries away and act like I don't feel completely humiliated. I can feel the heat on my face and I can't bring myself to look at Edward.

I should just throw the condoms away. It's just too embarrassing. I put away the last of the dry goods in Edward's well-stocked pantry, but that little black and gold box is nowhere in sight. Perhaps Edward beat me to it.

* * *

><p>I find Edward sitting in front of the fire. He sees me and fills the other glass on the table with whiskey. I sit down next to him on the sofa.<p>

"I need you to drive me to the station tomorrow."

Edward hands me the tumbler. If he is surprised he doesn't show it.

"You're leaving."  
>"There's a bus at noon, so we need to leave here by ten."<p>

"Why?"

"I don't want to be late, the next one doesn't come for another six hours."

Edward raises an eyebrow. "That's not what I'm asking."

"You know why I'm leaving," I say evenly.

"No. I don't."

Asshole. As if our exchange earlier today wasn't humiliating enough. Now he wants me to spell it out, just how pathetic I feel. I can't stand his face right now. I place the glass on the table and walk up the stairs, resisting the urge to slam the door.

I pack the few things I brought up here, change into my nightgown and climb into bed. It's late but I can't sleep. I don't know why I thought coming up here would make any difference. Even though the scenery has changed, I'm still the same. I just can't seem to escape myself.

After about an hour, I'm still wide awake. I hear Edward's heavy footfalls on the stairs, walking down the hallway. He stops in front of my room. My heart almost skips a beat as I hear a quiet knock.

I don't move a muscle. A few minutes pass and he seems to have given up. He starts to walk away. Before he can get very far, I throw the door open and step out.

Edward approaches me slowly, only stopping when he is inches away from my face. In a low voice he asks, "Why are you leaving?"

I shake my head, backing away from him. He knows why. I don't want to say it. He steps closer, placing both hands against the wall on either side of me, entrapping me. He leans in close to my ear, his breath hot on my skin.

"You think I don't want to fuck you?"

Edward leans the long line of his body against my own. That's when I feel it, his hard cock pressing heavily against my stomach. His lips slide down my neck, trailing lightly on my skin. His hands slide up my thighs and over my ass, reaching up to cup my breasts through the thin nightgown. Maddeningly far from where I want his fingers.

"It's all I think about," he whispers in my ear.

When I open my eyes again, Edward is peering down at me.

"Then why don't you?" I say breathlessly.

Edward lets out a sigh, pressing his forehead against my own. "Because you couldn't handle it."

With what looks like a massive amount of effort, he pulls off of me, turning to walk back to his room.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

Part of me is hoping that his door will be locked. It isn't.

I step inside. It's dark and chilly, the scent of cigarettes lingers faintly in the air. Edward's bed is neatly made, untouched. I scan the room. In the moonlight I see only a few pieces of furniture, no photographs or personal effects. If I thought I'd learn anything new about Edward Cullen here, I was deeply mistaken.

I see a faint orange light in the periphery of my eye. It is a cigarette, burning brightly in the darkness, dangling leisurely out of the corner of Edward's lips. He sits at a wooden table, blowing smoke out the open window.

I wasn't expecting him to be awake. It's four in the morning and I can't sleep because he touched me and told me he wanted to fuck me and then he didn't. I'm so angry and hurt and humiliated. I told myself I was coming here to excoriate him, but I know in my heart that that isn't the whole truth. I suspect edward knows this and it just enrages me further.

Now I'm standing in front of him in my nightgown and I don't know what to say.

"I'm tired of staying away from you," Edward says quietly. I can't read his face in the dark.

"Then don't."

He takes a long slow drag off the cigarette. Minutes pass without another word spoken. I sink down on the bed covers.

"I can't be your boyfriend."

"I know. I don't care."

Edward grinds the stub into a small silver dish on the table. I watch as he pulls another cigarette out of his flannel shirt pocket and lights it with a match.

"Come here."

My body moves of it's own volition. I rise from the bed, stopping just shy of where he is sitting and shiver from the cool air emanating from the window.

"Are you cold?"

I nod. His eyes drift down to my chest, my nipples pert from the chilly air or Edward's gaze I'm not sure. Edward puts the cigarette back in his mouth. With both hands, he tugs the straps of my night gown down, exposing my breasts. Another pull and the thin white cotton falls to a pool at my feet. He motions for me to get on the table. I sit perched on the edge, completely naked save for a pair of white lace panties.

Edward leans back in his chair puffing on his cigarette, his face at eye level with my tits. For the moment, all the hurt and anger has melted away. I am just skin and heat and lust, waiting to be touched. My pulse quickens, in anticipation of what Edward will do next. With his free hand, he pulls the strap of my underwear until those drop to the floor too. He nudges my knees apart, spreading them wide on either side of his thighs.

I sit completely bare, just inches from his face. I'm overcome with shyness. He's seen me naked, but it wasn't like this. This feels more intimate somehow, even though he has barely touched me. That, and the fact that I am naked and he is still fully dressed. I resist the urge to hide, forcing my eyes to meet his. Edward is impassively looking at my body, cool as ever. He smokes, occasionally flicking his ashes into the silver dish next to my thigh.

He stares at me and I feel myself dissolving. I want him to touch me finally, relieve me of this delirious ache.

"Do you ever touch yourself Bella?"

I nod.

"What do you think about?"

"You," I answer honestly. My eyes involuntarily glance down at his pants, the tell tale bulge revealing he is not as unaffected as he appears.

Without another word, Edward leans in, casually sliding his index finger inside my heat. I gasp. Before I know it, he has slid it out again. He removes the cigarette from his mouth, replacing it with the finger that was just inside me, licking off my arousal.

"You taste good."

I'm speechless. I've never enjoyed having a man's face between my legs. I never wanted it as badly as I do now. All I want to do is knock that cigarette out of his hands and wrap my thighs greedily around Edward's neck.

He puts out the cigarette and rises from the chair. I watch, mesmerized as he drags the zipper of his jeans down, reaching in to pull out his thick hard cock. My mouth drops open, my breath quickens as Edward slides the head of his cock up and down the apex of my thighs. He rubs the velvety liquid all over my swollen labia. He enters me, just the tip for one delicious moment but withdraws.

"Have you ever tasted yourself?" he asks, rubbing slow, concentric circles over my clitoris with his cock.

I shake my head. I am incapable of coherent thought, unable to form any words.

Closer and closer. Please. I'm on the verge of begging for more, for him to enter me, fill me, fuck me.

"Get on your knees." His voice is sharp. He is no longer touching me and I feel only cool air on my wet skin. I slide off the table, dropping to my knees on the hardwood floor.

"Open your mouth Bella."

I part my lips.

"I want you to lick it."

Edward's eyes are trained on my own. Its a heady feeling, being watched as I lick my arousal off his cock, mixed with his own pre-cum.

Edward places one hand on the back of my neck. With the other he guides his swollen cock into my mouth, pushing it as deep as it will go and then sliding back out again. Edward places both hands on my head, running his fingers through my hair. Without a warning, he thrusts into my mouth. I relax my throat, taking him deep inside as he fucks my face.

He pulls out. I look up at Edward. He's no longer composed, his hair is wild and his skin has a light sheen of sweat. He takes my hand and pulls me up to standing again. He is behind me, running his large hands all over my body. One hand roughly massaging and tweaking my nipples, the other slowly driving me to the brink of orgasm. I lean into his still fully clothed body, desperately craving more friction.

"Do you like sucking cock Bella?" His voice a low, obscene whisper in my ear.

I nod, my eyes rolling back in pleasure as he rubs my clitoris with two fingers. Edward Cullen is no novice. He knows exactly what he's doing to me.

"Do you want to get fucked?"

Yes. Oh God yes. Again, I nod eagerly, my capacity for coherent speech gone. Finally, finally, he presses the small of my back down, bending me over the table. He rubs my ass with both hands, dipping his long fingers inside me, teasing and taunting me.

"Please..." I plead.

"Please what?"

"Please fuck me Edward."

He fucks me roughly against that table, our moans echoing loudly into the forest below. For that moment, there is nothing else but Edward. His breath, his heat, his skin on my skin, the sound of his body crashing into my own. He fucks me mercilessly and still I beg for more and more.

After it is over, he extricates himself from my body. I watch as he rolls the condom down, ties it up and discards it in the trash. The spell is broken. Edward bends down to retrieve my nightgown, offering it to me. I slip it back on. I don't know what happened to my panties.

There's nothing to say, so I reach up and kiss Edward on the cheek before returning to my room.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

He didn't disappear. I was bracing myself for the inevitable rejection, another long unexplained absence from Edward. I think I'm as surprised as he is that we're sitting on the porch drinking coffee together.

Although the first time, he waited a day before vanishing into thin air. So only time will tell.

I'm surprised at myself. There's no guilt where there should be. In a past life, I'd be replaying that night over and over, searching for some clue that he cared about me. But here, it's incredibly refreshing to be apathetic. I just fucked a guy that I am not in a relationship with, who doesn't want to be in a relationship with me. And I'm fine with that.

Is this the way most guys feel? It's kind of empowering. I smile to myself. Edward looks over at me, cocking an eyebrow, but I just shrug in response.

It's not glaringly obvious, but I know something has changed between us. He still isn't very chatty. I think the longest conversation we'd had to this point was Edward's dirty talk last night. Not that he has ever been unkind to me, I just get the distinct vibe that he doesn't mind having me around as much anymore.

"What do you do? For a living I mean?"

He stares at his coffee cup for a long time. I wonder if maybe I shouldn't have asked, if I've broken this temporary detente between us.

"You want to come to work with me?"

I nod, not trying to look too over eager. I'm intensely curious as to how Edward Cullen makes his living. I can't picture him in an office job, with a cubicle and a sad little K-cup coffee machine. I can't picture him anywhere really, but in this setting.

"Where do you work?"

"Do you want to see?"

Of course I want to see. It's not like I have anything better to do, seeing as I have pretty much given up on writing my novel. I find myself riding beside Edward in his truck. He wears his usual outfit, flannel shirt, Levi's, and Redwing boots.

I'm faintly amused that this is the exact uniform of pretty much all the boys I dated back in Chicago, except the most outdoorsy thing they'd ever done was probably taking a cab to to buy the aforementioned Redwing boots and then blogging about it afterward. He turns down a gravel road, parking in front of what looks like an abandoned warehouse in the middle of the woods.

Oh my God. Edward is a serial killer. This is his office, A.K.A. where he dumps the dead bodies. And I begged him to take me here.

Chill out Bella. Edward Cullen is not a serial killer. Probably. Even though he used to look like an extra from the film _Deliverance_. And he lives all alone up here. And the first thing I thought when I met him was that he was a serial killer.

He's got the car keys and as previously established, Bella Swan cannot run. So I say a little prayer and follow him into the warehouse.

Edward flicks on a switch. I almost audibly let out a sigh of relief. It's a workshop, filled with all sorts of woodworking machinery and pieces of furniture in various states of completion. Not a single dead body in sight. Edward looks a little uncomfortable. He walks over to his work bench, turning on the radio. The familiar murmur of public radio floods the space and we both instantly relax.

I walk the room, inspecting the furniture. I'm not an expert, but it is evident that a lot of time and craftsmanship went into these pieces. They are rustic, modern, and minimal, elegant in their restraint. "These are beautiful Edward. Thank you for showing me."

He mutters something inaudible in reply. He's got his back to me, so I can't see his face.  
>"Can I help?"<p>

I know I'm pushing his buttons here, but I can't resist. If he has a problem with me being in the same room with him as he cooks, he's certainly not going to let me help him build furniture. The internal debate is obvious on his face. At last, he motions for me to follow him.

"Have you ever sanded anything before?"

I shake my head. He demonstrates, showing me how to use the sanding block on a low wooden credenza. It's easy, kind of monotonous work. But after some time, it begins to feel meditative. I can see how this sort of thing appeals to Edward. I'm just happy to not be completely useless for once.

As I sand, I watch Edward move about the workshop, lifting large planks of wood. Now I know where that physique comes from. The beard isn't back, but he has a little scruff from a day of not shaving. He catches me staring. The blatant objectifying I'm doing must be apparent on my face because he smirks. I blush and look away. But everywhere I turn, my dirty mind can't help but picture Edward fucking me against every available surface. God, I'm such a slut.

When lunch time rolls around, Edward pulls out a basket that he's packed and sets a spread on one of the finished tables. There's creamy goat's milk cheese, a crusty loaf of french bread, a dry-aged sausage, cornichons, grainy mustard, and sweet Honeycrisp apples for dessert.

"There's beer in the fridge in back. Do you want one?" he says, starting to rise.

I jump up. "I'll get it."

I jog to the back, pushing the heavy metal door open and feeling blindly in the dark for the light switch. It's pretty bare, with only a small window, boarded up from the outside. A few empty whiskey bottles litter the floor. I open up the fridge, pulling out two bottles of stout. I'm about to walk back when a small framed photograph nailed to the wall catches my eye.

It's Edward, looking much younger and happy. He's smiling broadly, in a way I didn't know was possible for him. In the picture, he has his arms wrapped around two people. One is pretty petite girl with short black hair and an impish look about her. The other is a blond guy, as tall as Edward wearing black cowboy boots.

I study the photograph, wondering who they are. What happened to Edward between the picture and now? I wonder if I will ever be able to ask him. I replace the photograph in the same spot and return to the workroom.

* * *

><p>"What is your book about?"<p>

I look up in surprise. It is rare for Edward to initiate a conversation with me. After the shock has worn off, I struggle to find an answer to his very simple question.

"Edward, how did you know my name? That first day we met, I mean, when you tried to run me off your property with your shotgun."

He looks a little stunned by my sudden change of subject. And then he looks down, the ghost of a smile forming on the corners of his lips. He sneaks a glance at me and the slight pink tinge on his face gives him away.

Edward Cullen is blushing.

"Oh my God! I knew it!" I giggle gleefully. "You read my book!"

He takes a drink, his nose is buried so far in his glass I fear he my drown. "I think I have to go to bed..." he mumbles rising from the seat. I grab his arm and drag him back down with me. "Don't be ridiculous, you're only on your second drink."

Unable to come up with a rebuttal to my sound argument, Edward sinks back into the sofa, looking grim.

"So Edward Cullen, what are you doing reading a vampire romance novel geared toward teenage girls?"  
>I wasn't always a washed up hack. I graduated from school, fully intent on writing the Great American Novel. I moved to Chicago with high hopes and with my fancy liberal arts degree secured myself a steady stream of low-paying menial jobs. But it was okay, I was paying my dues. While I was paying my dues, I was too busy trying to pay the bills, I never found the time to write.<p>

When the opportunity to ghost write a novel for a popular young adult author arose, I jumped at the chance. I did moderately well, and Esme, my editor at the time suggested I try writing something on spec. She loved it, and they published it under my own name. That first novel bought me health insurance and a little rainy day fund, in addition to almost paralyzing expectations for the sequel.

"Esme sent it to me. I always read everything she edits."

This makes me smile. Edward with his gruffness, and his flannel and scotch, faithfully plowing through a teenage romance novel because he knows it will make his stepmother happy. "That's really sweet Edward."

He ignores me, staring intently into the fire. I'm not entirely comfortable with the fact that Edward has read my novel. It's deeply personal in a way that I'm not sure I'm ready to reveal to him yet, even if he hasn't figured out that it is semi-autobiographical. Except, of course, for the vampire stuff. And it was an old me, one that doesn't exist anymore.

"You didn't answer my question."

"Honestly? I wish I knew," I manage after a long while. "I was really young when I wrote that book. I was too naive to know the difference between love and unhealthy obsession. It's crazy, looking back. I don't know how I could have thought that the stalking, and the breaking and entering, and the...isolating me from my friends and family was romantic. It took me a long time to break away from him."

Now it's my turn to hide my face in my drink. Edward doesn't seem disturbed by long silences in the conversation. He just waits, eyeing me curiously.

"Now my mistakes are forever immortalized in print, millions of copies sold. How am I supposed to churn out the sequel to this when I already know how the story ended? Nobody would read that book."

Edward leans closer to me. He gently wipes away the errant tear that has fallen. He's so close, I can smell his clean, woodsy scent. I'm acutely aware of the fact that we haven't kissed. Not once. He's tasted me and been inside me but his lips have never touched my own. His eyes flicker to my lips for a fleeting moment.

"Then write a different one."

He's so pragmatic. I want to slap him, but I don't. I know he's right about this.

"I'm going to bed," he says, rising. "Coming?"

He looks nonchalant, but there's a flash of something predatory in those green eyes.

"Yes."

Oh God yes.

* * *

><p><em><strong>*ducks*<strong>_

**_For the record, I love Twilight! _**


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

He likes to keep me waiting.

I watch him, with bated breath as he swirls the last of the dark amber liquid in his glass. The air is thick with anticipation. Looking me straight in the eye, he lifts the glass to his lips until every last drop is gone. I follow him, as I do every night, the distance to his bedroom that always feels like forever.

He likes to undress me. Unwrap me, layer by layer, like pulling the leaves off an artichoke. Till my clothes fall to the ground and I am again naked in front of him.

He is cool, detached. But I know better by now. His eyes betray him. He is just as desperate and hungry for this as I am. So I play along. He teases me, whispering obscenities, tells me what a slut I am. I never though I would love it, but I do. I can never get enough of his low voice, saying those dirty things in my ear.

My fingertips trace the faded scars all over his body, memories etched painfully on his skin like a tattoo. He refuses to tell me where they came from. He never answers my questions. He won't tell me about the people in the photograph. It's the only photograph I've seen here with other people in it, the only proof that Edward wasn't always alone on this mountain. I taste the imperfections on his skin with my tongue. They taste like sea water.

I slip his flaccid cock between my lips. Velvety soft. Vulnerable. I savor the feeling of him hardening, lengthening in my mouth. I am punchdrunk with the knowledge that I did this to him, that I can exercise this kind of power over his body. It is the only time I feel like I am in control. I kiss his cock, knowing full well he will never let me kiss his mouth. He is tender and brutal, stroking my hair and cheek gently as he thrusts mercilessly into my face. He comes, thick and white and bitter down my throat.

He sits on the edge of the bed, pulling out a cigarette. I watch as he places it between his lips and lights it with a match. He takes a long drag and I wait. Wanting. He smokes leisurely, as if he's alone still, while I wait for him to notice I'm still here. Sometimes he is cruel and sends me away without release. He grinds the stub out.

He leans back on the bed. "Are you wet Bella?"

I nod.

"Let me taste."

I stand, moving closer to the bed. My right hand drifts down, I trace my wetness with my finger. His eyes never leaving mine, Edward grabs my hand, wrapping his lips around my arousal.

"Get on my face, I want to eat your pussy."

I crawl up the length of his body, his cock already erect again. I hold on to the headboard with both hands, thighs spread wide on either side of Edward's face. He stares, unabashed, with an almost awed expression. Besides fucking me and tasting it, I think it is his favorite thing to do. Edward always spends an inordinate amount of time just looking at me with an intensity that always makes me blush. The way Edward looks at me... it's as if he was a starving man, feasting his eyes on the most delicious decadent dessert.

When I can barely stand it anymore and he is done looking and is ready to taste, his tongue darts out, just a little tease, a flicker on my clitoris. He spreads me wide with his fingers and takes a long, sensuous lick. Its slow and sweet and torturous. These days, this is what I spend my every waking moment dreaming about. I am wild and wanting, fucking his tongue, riding his face so hard. I open my eyes for and look down at his face. Edward is gone, having given himself over to my pleasure completely. I live for those rare moments when he drops that mask and allows himself to lose control. I gave up trying to control anything a long time ago. I surrender gladly. I know I am useless, completely at the mercy of Edward Cullen. It's almost a kiss I tell myself.

* * *

><p>Tonight is different. Tonight he is a live wire, the tension is palpable..<p>

Edward is restless. He prowls the floorboards, brow furrowed, eyes darting to my face and then away, back to gazing out the window. He can't stay away for long though. His eyes rake hungrily over the length of my body. Something snaps and he is on me, pouncing on me, destroying my clothes and devouring my body. All skin and teeth and lips and man. All Edward.

When he is done with me, we lay in a pile on the floor. I rest my head on his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath, the heartbeat slowing to a steady _thump thump thump_. I raise my head to look at him. He's looking at me with such intensity but his expression is unreadable.

I don't know Edward Cullen. I don't know if I ever will. And despite every rational fiber in my body screaming for me to run away, save myself before I lose myself again, I stay. I tell myself its different this time. I'm a different person. I know better. I won't make the same mistake.

In this moment, I want nothing more but to kiss this beautiful, unknowable man.

So I do.

My lips press to his, gently taking his lower lip between my own. They are softer than I imagined. I taste his breath, it is sweet, like mint and honey.

Edward is motionless, a statue. He is as cold and unyielding as white marble. He turns his face, until I am buried in his neck.

"You can't stay here forever," he says in a low voice.

"I know."

"You don't belong here Bella."

I know he is right. I know it. I knew this day was coming, I just didn't know it would happen so soon. And as much as you prepare yourself, tell yourself this was the plan all along, that you agreed to this, it still feels like a knife to the chest.

I disentangle myself from Edward, collecting my ravaged clothing. As I attempt to dress myself in the rags he has left me, he tucks himself in and zips up his pants. He looks composed, not like he just fucked my brains out and then stabbed me in the heart.

"I never promised you anything."

"I know."

"Then why do you look like that?"

"Like what?" I ask quietly. He is not oblivious to my pain. He just doesn't care. It's not enough for him, he means to hurt me more.

"You started this. You wanted this."

He's in front of me now, towering over me. His voice a low, dangerous growl. I face him, looking right into his eyes, defiant. I won't let him see how much he's crawled under my skin.

"I let you stay because you had nowhere to go and you said you needed a place to write. You've been here a month and a half and I haven't seen you write a single fucking sentence."

He's pushing forward, pressing against me, until he has me pinned against the wall. It would be easier if he was yelling and screaming at me. I could blame his words on the heat of the moment. But he is so eerily calm, his voice so quiet and controlled. Almost as if it were premeditated, like he planned his speech in advance. I know he means every cruel thing he says to me, with every fiber of his being.

"And now you look like I just broke your fucking heart. I fucking warned you Bella Swan. I told you to stay away. I told you that the moment I met you. I told you I was no good but you didn't fucking believe me. I told you I couldn't be your boyfriend. I'm not ever going to be anyone's boyfriend."

Now he is leaning ever closer, his breath hot on my cheek. "You think you're the first one that tried?" He drags his hands down my body, roughly grabbing my vagina. "You're not. You're not special, Bella Swan. _All you are to me is a pussy and a mouth_."

He is close enough to kiss, but I won't make that mistake again. I slap his face as hard as I can.

He stares at me, defiant, his cheek red. "Get your shit and get the fuck out. I want you out of here by tomorrow. I never want to see your fucking face ever again."

Before I climb the stairs, I turn back to him. "Fuck you Edward. I hope you die alone and miserable on this fucking mountain. You don't deserve to be happy."

I have nothing left to say to Edward Cullen. I make my retreat back to my room. I wait till the door is closed and I am completely alone before I let the tears fall.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

His words played through my head, over and over, on a continuous loop. A cruel, heartless mantra, slowly destroying me from the inside out.

The worst part of it, the absolute worst, was knowing all along this was how it would end. My story always ends the same way and I am completely powerless to stop it. I see myself hurtling towards the precipice, nothing but darkness ahead of me, and yet I gladly embrace my own death. I crash and I put myself back together and then it starts all over again.

I was ready to leave last night. Take the few possessions I came here with and run away to anywhere Edward Cullen is not. But there are worse things lurking in these dark woods and I'm not nearly as reckless with my body as I am with my emotions.

When I awoke, after a few hours of restless sleep, he was gone again. As I knew he would be. I packed my bags, my laptop, untouched for weeks. I cleaned my room thoroughly, putting everything back exactly as I had found it when I arrived six weeks ago. After I am gone, there will be no trace of my existence, no reminder that I was ever here.

In spite of everything that happened last night, I will miss this beautiful cabin in the woods. High up in this mountain aerie, away and isolated from civilization, and yet I never felt that familiar ache of loneliness that I had grown accustomed to.

I step out on the front porch for the last time. I hold his keys in my hand. I'm not sure if I should take them back to Esme or if Edward would want me to leave them. I realize that I'm doing it again. Worrying about what Edward would want. After the way he treated me last night, he doesn't deserve any respect or courtesy from me.

No. He doesn't get to dictate the terms. I'm not just going to disappear. That would be too easy. I open the door and walk back in, dropping my bags inside. I walk to the kitchen and find the set of spare keys he keeps in a drawer, before stepping outside again. His truck is gone, but I have a feeling he hasn't gone very far. Edward's workshop is walkable, only about two miles from the cabin.

He's going to be pissed but I'm beyond caring. I don't know exactly what I'm going to say to Edward Cullen. I'm not fool enough to think I will get any sort if remorse or apology from him. I just want him to know its not right. He can't treat me like that and then think he can throw me away like a piece of garbage when he's done with me. I am leaving, that much is certain, but I'm not going without a fight.

The rusted red truck is parked exactly where I thought it would be. From the outside, it's eerily quiet. I can't hear Edward moving around the shop or the whirr of his electric tools. Just silence. Before I lose my nerve, I fit the key in the lock and turn.

It's dark inside. Empty. I flip the light switch by the door. I move through the space, peeking around a half-finished highboy. No sign of Edward.

I have no clue where he could be. He couldn't have gone far on foot. And as far as I know, Edward Cullen has no friends so he probably hasn't hitched a ride with a buddy. I feel an inkling of concern for Edward's safety but quickly squash the emotion when I realize what I'm doing.

The storage room is pitch black when I push the heavy metal door open. I keep it propped ajar with an empty whiskey bottle I find conveniently lying by the door. Edward has vanished into thin air again. Who knows when he will be back. I don't even have the luxury of making an angry exit on my own terms. I fumble along the wall, until I find the switch.

The room is pretty much exactly the way it was when I saw it last, pretty sparse with empty liquor bottles littering the floor. The only new addition is a completely naked, passed out Edward Cullen on the floor, his clothes tossed haphazardly in a pile in the corner.

"Edward. Wake up."

I nudge him with my foot but he is out cold, hands wrapped possessively around an empty bottle. It's only four in the afternoon but it is evident that he's been going at it pretty hard for a while now. I wonder if he stripped naked before hitting the bottle, or if the nudity was an afterthought. How very bizarre. I don't think I will ever understand this man.

I kick him, a little harder this time, but he does not stir. His cock lays flaccid and unassuming along his thigh. I'm very tempted to kick him in the balls, but decide it will be much more satisfying when he is awake to feel it.

"Sleep it off asshole. I'll see you at home."

I check his pulse and roll him on to his side so he does not drown in his own vomit. I don't bother turning off the lights or shutting the doors. I want Edward to know that I was here. That I witnessed him at his lowest, most pathetic state. I go back to the house and I wait.

* * *

><p>He's not back for dinner. I eat in silence, mentally berating myself for making Edward a plate. When it's clear he will not show, I wrap it in foil and place it in the refrigerator. Real pathetic Swan. Fair is fair though. Even when he didn't seem to like me very much, Edward always fed me well.<p>

I suppose I'm feeling a tiny bit guilty about leaving his workshop open like that. Any crazed lunatic could just stumble in and have their way with Edward's finely muscled form. Or at this very moment, he could be eaten alive by a pack of hyenas. Okay, probably not hyenas. Mountain lions, or bears, or wolves, but not hyenas. Whatever. I shrug it off. This isn't Chicago. This is Edward's remote mountaintop. The most dangerous thing around for miles is probably Edward Cullen himself.

After dinner, I wait for him by the fire, nursing a glass of Edward's favorite whiskey. I don't get it. He has sex with me, then freaks out, says some hateful things and then goes on a nude drinking binge. It doesn't make any sense. When the embers have died down and my eyes become heavy with sleep, I climb up the stairs and back to my old bedroom.

When I open my eyes again, it is still dark outside. I make a halfhearted attempt to go back to sleep but my body is restless. Wrapping myself in a thick wool blanket, I step out. The door to Edward's room is open, but he is not in his bed. It looks untouched. The downstairs is as I left it a few hours ago. He didn't come home last night.

It isn't too cold tonight, so I curl up in one of the adirondack chairs on the back porch. The sun will be up soon. This is probably the last time I will see stars in the sky. Strangely enough, I kind of forgot they existed. You can't see them in Chicago, the lights are too bright. But here, night is a perfect inky black.

I can't wait much longer for him to come back. He was right. I can't stay here forever. But I'm not ready to go back to what I was. I don't want to be that weak spineless girl who let guys make her decisions for her anymore.

Sleep is an impossibility, so I walk back inside to make myself a pot of coffee. The sound of the electric coffee grinder is oddly jarring this early in the morning. When the kettle whistles, I take it off the flame and pour the boiling water into the french press. I'm pouring cream into my coffee when I hear the wooden floorboards creak behind me. All the hair on the back of my neck stands straight up. Edward. He's here. Control yourself Bella. You're not going to cry. Don't let him see you cry. I take a deep breath, attempting to compose my face, before I slowly turn around to look at him.

Its not Edward.

It takes me a few seconds to register the sight in front of me. And then instinct kicks in and my reptilian brain starts screaming "Danger Bella! Get the hell out!" The grey wolf is enormous, much larger than any I'd seen on tv. His teeth are terrifyingly sharp, vicious looking. Of all the ways I had imagined myself dying, being ripped apart by an angry wolf was not a possibility I had considered.

I scan the room, looking for an exit. He stands between me and the open door to the back porch. I spot a shotgun hanging over the front door, the very same one Edward used to try and scare me off that first day we met. I rush to the front door, pulling down the gun, praying silently for the gun to be loaded. I thank Charlie for being an overprotective father and insisting that his little girl know how to fire a gun. The wolf is crouched down low, eyeing me dangerously, a menacing growl coming from his lips.

I clutch the gun, aiming it straight at him. There's fresh blood on his mouth, what looks like a torn piece of flannel stuck in his teeth. It looks familiar, it looks like... Oh God. I realize with sudden horrific clarity that this wolf has killed Edward. He got in because I left his shop wide open and exposed. I got Edward Cullen killed. Its all my fault. I killed Edward. Oh my God. Oh my God.

He doesn't care about my remorse. The wolf springs at me. I squeeze my eyes shut tight before letting go of the trigger. I wait for it, razor sharp teeth sinking deep into my neck. After a few minutes, I open my eyes. The wolf is on the ground, whimpering. My ears are ringing and there's blood everywhere. I can still smell the gunpowder in the air. I drop the gun, sinking to the floor.

He's not dead yet but he can't hurt me anymore. None of this matters because Edward is dead and I killed him.

Edward is dead.

Edward is dead.

I stare straight ahead. The sky is beginning to lighten, midnight black giving way to the milky gray light of morning. The wolf is silent now, his fur becoming dark and matted from the blood seeping from his wound. His head is turned toward me, golden brown eyes trained on my own. I pick up the gun lying down by my side and reload.

I stand, walking the few feet to where he is. I raise the gun to his head.

Before I can kill the beast, something very strange happens. The wolf shudders, eyes rolling into the back of his head until I see only white. As if there was something alien burrowed beneath his skin, the fur begins to ripple, shifting and moving unnaturally, like waves on the ocean.

I back away slowly, not understanding what it is I am witnessing. I hear the sickening _crunch crunch_ of bones breaking, the wolf screams, a terrible howl of pain. It is painful to watch but I can't tear my eyes away. I watch rapt with horror as this animal's body appears to be imploding in on itself, crushing flesh and bone.

The wolf is silent now, either dead or unable to make another sound. His fur has thinned, it seems to be reverting back inside the skin. Only pale pink flesh remains in some areas, damp with perspiration. He continues to move, the muscles shifting about disturbingly until he gives a final shudder and collapses against the floor once more.

This is not real. This can't be happening. I'm dreaming still. But it feels real, the cool metal of the rifle in my hand, the scent of freshly spilled blood. There was an enormous gray wolf on the floor only minute ago. He was trying to kill me and I shot him. And now there is a naked man where the wolf should be.

He is alive. I can see him moving, his chest rising with every breath. He's covered in blood, from the gunshot wound in his shoulder. I approach him cautiously. He turns his head toward me.

I gasp. He doesn't see me yet, his green eyes unfocused. His breathing is heavy, he closes his eyes, lifting his right arm and then wincing in pain. Then he lifts those heavy eyelids and finally looks at me. He looks down at his naked body, the blood on his chest, and then back to my face, with increasing panic.

"Is this real? Are you real?" he demands, his voice hoarse. Edward doesn't sound like Edward. He sounds choked up and he looks like he may be on the verge of tears.

I nod. "I think so," I say in a small voice.

I don't believe it though. I am losing my mind. I must be dreaming.

This can't be real.


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

I am frozen in place. I will close my eyes and when I open them,I want everything be as it was before. Erase those awful images from my memory forever. I don't want to know the unfathomable, that Edward Cullen turns into a wolf when the moon is full. It's too much to swallow, the weight of it threatening to crush me. But when I open my eyes, I am confronted with the pool of freshly spilled blood in the middle of the living room floor. And Edward, in the middle of it, looking like he is about to have a panic attack.

Edward sits up suddenly, grimacing in pain. He rushes past me, his head low, refusing to look at me. I hear his retreating footsteps and then a door slamming upstairs.

I don't know if I should follow him. If I am honest, I don't really want to. The back porch door is still open, beckoning to me. I could walk out that door, my bags are packed and waiting. I could leave and never come back. Pretend none of this ever happened. It would be so easy.

I could just leave Edward alone. It's what he says he wants.

It's becoming more and more apparent with every stupid decision I make that I have no sense of self-preservation. I walk to the back door and close it shut. Lock it for good measure. He's a mess right now, and despite everything he's said to me, I can't bring myself to leave Edward to deal with this on his own.

His bedroom door is closed. I knock softly a few times before entering. I hover in the doorway, uncertain whether or not I should come closer. Edward is curled up in a fetal position on the bed, his back to me.

"Edward? Are you okay?" My voice comes out small and high pitched, like a little girl's. I sound like I'm scared of him, which I am a little, but I don't want him to feel any worse than he probably already does. It's a stupid question. I know he's not okay. Edward is not one to waste words. This time is no different, he doesn't bother answering me. I edge a little closer to the bed. I still can't see his face. I want to touch him, make sure he is real.

"Edward?"

"Leave me alone," he says, his voice muffled by the sheets.

"Edward, you need to go to the hospital. You're bleeding everywhere. I shot at you earlier when...I didn't know it was you"

"No hospitals."

"You have to. I couldn't forgive myself if anything bad happened to you. Please Edward."

His shoulders are shaking now, he looks like he is sobbing. I move to touch him but he finally turns to me, mouth twisted in a painful humorless laugh. "Fucking hell Bella. I almost kill you and you're apologizing?" He voice is tired, resigned.

"It wasn't you..." I protest softly, even though I know it is probably a lie.

"It doesn't matter. If you hadn't gotten to that shotgun in time, I would have ripped your throat out. So don't fucking apologize to me."

I don't have a response to that. Everything he is saying is true. I was so close to dying, in the worst, most violent way imaginable. I don't want to think about that right now. I'm silent for a long time. Edward's staring at smear of blood on my wrist. He traces it slowly with his finger.

"But I'm not dead, okay? Will you please just go to the hospital?"

"I don't go to hospitals." He adds in a low voice, "I heal quickly."

I want to smack him for being so damned stubborn, but realize maybe it's a..._werewolf_ thing. I'm having trouble even thinking the word. I wonder if they could tell he was different, if the doctors took his blood or something.

"Okay. No hospital."

I'm not used to seeing Edward look so unsteady, shaken. I don't recall him every showing any sort of weakness, ever. He still won't look me in the eye. He stares at the floor, breathing heavily, holding on to his wounded shoulder. He's covered in bits of grass and dirt and blood. I touch his elbow lightly.

"Come on. Let's get you cleaned up."

Wordlessly, he follows me to the bathroom, watches me fill the tub. He steps in gingerly, wincing when the hot water laps at his wounds. I stand to leave, glancing back at Edward. He's motionless, staring at the water. He looks shell shocked.

I take a soft white towel and begin to clean him. He doesn't protest. I'm surprised that he is letting me do this for him. I'm just grateful I have something to do to keep my mind occupied. When I get to his shoulder, I carefully rinse away the blood. I've never seen a gunshot wound in real life before today. It doesn't add up, the amount of blood that was coming out of him earlier and the way the wounds look now. It's unnatural, how quickly they have healed. I wonder if he's been shot at before. I run the towel carefully along a series of scratches along his back. The wounds have long healed, from an animal most likely.

The water is stained pink now. I drain it and refill the tub. Edward looks down at the water. I lift his chin to face me, force him to lock eyes with me. It's not the look I'm accustomed to. He's usually predatory and aggressive, or maddeningly aloof. I've never seen this much despair, uncertainty in his eyes. I hold his face in both my hands, wiping away the silent tears with my thumbs. I gently wash his cheeks, his eyelids, his lips.  
>I help him dry off, wrapping a towel around his waist. I find clean gauze and dress the wounds, although they look like they will be completely healed in a few days. There are antibiotics in the medicine cabinet, prescribed by Carlisle Cullen, Edward's father and Esme's husband. I wonder if they know about Edward.<p>

"Are you tired?"

He nods.

His bed is a dirty, bloody mess. He doesn't need to see that right now. "Sleep in my room. I'll take care of everything else." I help Edward into bed, pull the covers around him. He doesn't say anything else, just turns his face to the wall.

* * *

><p>The scars on his body. The unexplained absences, exactly four weeks apart. The room with the metal door and boarded up window in his workshop. The isolation. All of these puzzle pieces, fitting together in a way I never could have imagined. A fog has lifted, but still I can't make sense of what is in front of me. I know it is impossible. The stuff of legend, an old ghost story. Except I saw with my own eyes, Edward Cullen transform from wolf into man right on the floor.<p>

I cleaned the blood in the living room. I swept up broken glass and the ceramic shards of a broken lamp. I even found the bullet that went through Edward's shoulder. This metal bead, so small and innocuous, could leave so much chaos. And save my life. I slipped it into my pocket. I stripped his bed, soaking the sheets until I got all the blood out. When I was finished, no one could have guessed what had happened only a few hours earlier.

Edward stays in bed the entire day. I check on him a few times. He doesn't sleep for a long time, just lays there, staring at nothing, not acknowledging my presence. I look in on him again, shortly after sunset. I wonder how long it has been since he last slept.

Why am I still here? I thought I was through with being a doormat in an abusive relationship. Edward has been nothing but withholding, from the moment we met. He reveals nothing about himself. Even when were having sex, he would sometimes bring me to the just the edge of orgasm, only to deny me my pleasure at the very last moment.

It might just be my sick mind trying to rationalize his behavior, but despite all evidence to the contrary, I don't believe it. I don't think Edward is abusive. I used to do this with my ex. I knew when he started to turn on me, it wasn't right the way he treated me. It wasn't healthy. But I stayed because I thought I loved him and I thought being miserable with him was better than being alone by myself.

I now know the reason for his extreme secrecy and I don't blame him for it. I have so many questions, I don't know if I will ever be able to ask them. And as for the sex...I don't know how he did it, but he just knew. Edward recognized something in me, the need to be completely dominated, before I knew it myself. I wanted it, craved it.

I can't remember Edward ever saying anything remotely nice to me. But it didn't matter, he was kind in his own inimitable way. He fed me well. There was always a warm fire in my room. I would wake up with an extra wool blanket, slipped soundlessly on me, the nights that the temperature would drop. The way I would catch him looking at me sometimes when he didn't know I was paying attention.

Then that night before the full moon happened. I don't know what to think anymore. The world has shifted a few degrees and I don't trust myself. I'm having a hard time reconciling what I feel I know is true about Edward and his cruelty. Those ugly words seemed designed specifically to prey on my insecurities and absolute worst fears about myself. How can he know me so well?

I'm so wrapped up in my thoughts, I don't hear Edward come down. He's dressed, a makeshift sling wrapped around his arm.

"You're still here."

"I'm still here."


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

_"You're still here."_

_"I'm still here."_

Edward looks anywhere but my eyes, raking his hand through his hair. He takes a deep breath and finally gives up trying. The half empty bottle of dark amber whiskey is a far less daunting task at the present. He pours himself a glass and downs it quickly with his back turned away from me. He pours himself another. His head is bowed, shoulders tense.

I open my mouth to speak, but no sound comes out. I know I should say something, anything to break this unbearable silence. What can I say in this situation? I saw something that I never wanted to see, that Edward sure as hell never wanted me to see. And now I share this terrible knowledge with him, this burden he's been carrying around for God knows how long.

He is about to down his third drink. I reach out, place my hand on his own and lower the glass.

"You need to eat," I say.

Edward doesn't say anything, he just stares at our hands. I guide him back to the kitchen table. I assemble a sandwich and cut it in half, placing it in front of him. He devours it greedily. I know he' s really hungry, Edward probably hasn't eaten since the night we fought. He doesn't keep any food at his workshop, just alcohol. He told me once he was worried about animals getting in. I make him another, this one he eats more slowly.

"Another?"

"No. Thank you."

Edward stands, taking his plate to the sink. I watch as he tries to wash the dishes. It's an awkward and difficult task with the use of only one arm.

"Let me," I say, trying to take the dishrag from him. Edward stubbornly brushes me off.

"I've got it."

"How is your shoulder?"

"It'll heal."

Even with his handicap, he takes an unnecessarily long time to finish cleaning up. When every last plate has been scrubbed and rinsed to death, dried, and put away, he finally turns to me. He cradles the bottle and two glasses in his good arm and walks over to the living room, gesturing for me to follow.

The situation is familiar and comforting, the two of us sitting by the fire. I sneak a glance at Edward. He looks like his usual stoic self except his hand trembles ever so slightly. I want to reach out and hold his hand, but it feels too intimate a gesture.

"I'm sorry Bella."

He doesn't say what for. His cruel words or almost killing me last night. I've already forgiven him for that last one. I know it wasn't him, not really. I'm partly to blame. I unknowingly set the events of last night in motion by leaving his shop wide open in my anger. If I had left him alone like he'd asked me to, he would have been trapped in that room with the metal door and I would be on a bus back to Chicago. I would never know the truth.

"I can drive you to the bus station tomorrow," he adds in a quiet voice.

I shake my head. "I'm not leaving."

Edward turns to me, brow furrowed in confusion.

"I shot you. You can't be up here all by yourself."

"I'll be fine."

"No you won't. It took you forever to wash those dishes and that's even accounting for all that time you spent stalling. How are you going to cook? Chop wood for the fire?"

Edward raises an eyebrow. "You know how to chop wood?"

No. Obviously I don't and I'm probably the last person that should be allowed near an axe. "I'll figure it out."

"I was fine by myself before you came here. I'll be fine when you're gone."

He sounds resigned. This is probably true. Edward doesn't need me to feed him or help him around the house. He would manage the practical matters well enough without me. Despite the words he is saying, there's no real fire behind them. And we both know it.

"I'm not leaving you Edward."

"Why not? What the hell's wrong with you?" He turns to me, looking a little bewildered. Edward grabs my hand roughly, lifting it to his face. There are a few cuts on the backs of my hands from some broken glass when I was running away from the wolf. I don't even remember hurting myself. I didn't notice until after I put Edward to bed.

"Do you have a fucking death wish Bella? This, this is nothing! You don't know how lucky you are, I could have murdered you last night!" He's so close, so intense, green eyes blazing with fury. I'm speechless, I can only shake my head no, no, no. And then it seems as if all the anger has left him, he sinks into the chair, deflated.

"You can't stay here... It's too dangerous," he says softly. "I can't risk you Bella. If I hurt you..." Edward closes his eyes. His lashes are beautiful, as long and dark as a girl's. He's hasn't let go of my hand. He presses my injured knuckles gently to his lips. They're softer than I imagined.

"You know the photograph in the back room?"

I nod. I know the one he's talking about. I asked him about it before but he refused to give me any answers. The one where he's smiling, happy, with his arms around the guy and the girl.

"Those people, they were my friends, Alice and Jasper." His use of the past tense is not lost on me. "I never thought there was anyone else out there like me, until I met him. It was such a relief finally, to not be so alone anymore."

"Does your Dad know?"

"Carlisle knows. I thought I was dying the first time it happened. I was thirteen. My mom, my real mom, she died giving birth to me. But she was...she was like me, so he knew.

"And Esme?"

He shakes his head. "No. I made him swear to never tell." He lets out a low laugh. "I don't think she'd send you here if she knew about me."

"Alice? Was she...?"

"No. Alice was normal. But she loved Jasper anyway. We lived together here, the three of us. Jasper and I built furniture and Alice dealt with the business part. Once a month, Jas and I would lock ourselves in the back and do shots until we passed out and when we woke up, it would all be over."

"Whose idea was that?"

"Jasper." Edward smiles a little. "He never really needed a reason to drink. It does help with the pain. Carlisle used to give me tranquilizers, but those always took too long to wear off the next day."

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, but he doesn't let go of my hand.

"Alice used to check on us some nights. I always told her not to, it was too dangerous, but she never listened. You could never make Alice do anything she didn't want to do. She'd come after dark and look in through the window. I don't know why she did it."

I know the terrible part is coming. I don't want to hear it. I don't want to know what horrible thing happened to Alice.

"Jasper could always drink me under the table. I was out for the night, so I didn't piece everything together until after...He must have left the door open by accident, I don't know what happened exactly."

Edward lets out a shaky breath. "He got out, and he'd already changed." Edward closes his eyes, it looks as if it's painful for him to speak. "He...killed her."

I gasp.

He's silent for a long time. I don't know what to say. I think Edward has reached the end of this story but he isn't finished yet. "When Jasper woke up and saw what he had done to her, he took my shotgun and put it in his mouth and pulled the trigger."

Oh Edward. Edward. Edward. It's more harrowing than I ever could have imagined.

"I buried them together," he says, his voice breaking.

He turns away from me, his hand shielding his eyes. He breathes shallow, shuddering breaths.

I hesitate before touching him, but then decide I don't care if he pushes me away. I wrap both arms around Edward, pulling him to me. He is resistant, stiff in my arms, before giving in and collapsing into me. He buries his face in my neck, hot silent tears on my skin.


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

He fell asleep holding my hand.

I've been up for a while, my arm hurts a little, but I'm afraid to move. He looks so serene, I don't want to disturb him. It's still early, the light just beginning to creep into Edward's room. I've never woken up here before. We've been fucking each other for weeks now, but I never actually slept with him. We didn't even have sex last night. In the past, after we were done having sex, Edward would walk to the window and light a cigarette. He never had to tell me to leave. It was understood.

I brush his hair away from his face. Deep purple shadows pool under his eyelids. He has the longest lashes. His full lips are slightly parted. It feels like such a luxury to be touching him, holding his hand. He's so close. He's right here. He's confessed his deepest secrets to me, revealed the darkest corners of his heart. And yet, I fear I may lose him still.

I lied to him and I lied to myself when I told him I only wanted the sex. Nothing more. It isn't true now and it probably wasn't true then.

I want it all. I want all of Edward. I want his face and his body, his mind and his heart. I want him to love me back. I want it with an urgency and desperation that scares me, terrifies me even more than the monster he carries inside of him. Because I know the wolf probably won't be the one to break my heart.

Edward's eyes are open. He looks a little surprised to see me.

"Hi," he says, almost shy. He gives me a small smile, a hint of sadness in it.

"Good morning Edward."

I involuntarily glance down at our interlocked fingers. He follows my line of vision. I hold my breath, waiting for him to let go. He gives my hand a little squeeze.

"Why are you still here?" he asks softly.

"Where else would I go?" I answer. It's the truth.

As much as I'd like to, we can't stay in bed forever. I run a hot bath for Edward. I help him unbutton and remove his shirt. I remove the gauze, inspecting his gunshot wounds. It is healing, more quickly than I ever could have imagined. I'm ashamed to admit I'm a little saddened by this, soon he won't need my help anymore. I unbutton his jeans, opening his fly button by button. I help him pull his pants and underwear down. Edward is naked in front of me. It would be so easy to drop down on my knees and take him inside my mouth, but I resist.

He climbs into the porcelain tub, sinking into the water. I turn to leave.

"Bella?"

I swing back to face him. I'm expecting a suggestive smirk, but the expression on his face is uncertain.

"Do you want to...?" He doesn't finish the question.

Yes. Without hesitation, I pull my nightgown over my head and step out of my panties. I let him stare at my body. I know he likes to look. My nipples harden instantly. I crave his eyes raking over me almost as much as his touch. I climb into the tub, highly aware that Edward's eyes have dropped lower, as I raise my legs over the edge.

I'm trying to figure out where I should sit, when I feel his a large hand on my hip, pulling me down so I am leaning against his back.

"Hi," I giggle.

"Hi," he whispers, his lips trailing along the nape of my neck. He nips at the sensitive skin lightly, his tongue darts out, tasting me. His hand glides up my hip, into the dip of my waist, coming up to cup my left breast. He pulls my nipple, pinching lightly and tweaking it. He moves to my other breast, lavishing it with the same attention. Even with only one good hand, Edward Cullen knows how to make me unravel.

My hips move against Edward's hardness, desperately craving more friction. His hand drifts lower, rubbing slow circles on my belly. He dips one finger, tracing my opening, but pulls away. I moan in frustration.

Edwards tongue traces the outline of my ear. He takes my lobe into his mouth and sucks on it. "I love your pussy ."

He runs his hand up my inner thigh, lightly grazing my lips. "What do you want me to do Bella?"

"Touch me," I whisper breathlessly.

"Where do you want me to touch you?"

"Touch my...pussy." I whimper as he slides a long finger inside me. Edward is kissing along my jawline, his tongue hot and wet on my skin.

"Baby you're so wet."

He slides his fingers higher, finding my swollen clitoris and rubbing me. He wants it as badly as I do, he thrusts his hard cock against my ass as he drives me slowly, maddeningly insane with pleasure. His lips edge closer and closer to my mouth. I cry out when abruptly, he removes his hand.

Almost immediately, his hand is on my face, his fingers slick with my arousal. He turns my chin towards his and suddenly I am falling falling into Edwards lips, his kisses, urgent and hungry. I no longer care about the absence of his fingers inside me. I want his mouth on me, his kiss. He is greedy, like a starving man, he devours me with his mouth, his tongue seeking my own. Touching and teasing and sucking. He's the most delicious thing I've ever tasted.

I turn around so I am straddling his lap. Edward is breathless, mouth parted, staring at my lips. I wrap my arms around his neck, lifting myself and sinking slowly down his hard cock. Edward's green eyes roll back a little in pleasure, he lets out a moan. He leans in, stroking my cheek and gently taking my lower lip into his own. He presses against my lips, softly. His tongue parts my mouth, entering me, exploring me. His movements are more languid this time. As if he is committing the feel of my lips, the taste of my tongue to memory.

I ride him, savoring the feel of his lips on my lips, deliciously complete with his cock inside of me. This is how it should be. How it always was meant to be, our bodies entwined. I want to feel this forever, Edward inside me, filling me, all around me. My heart feels so full, like it might explode from too much heat and ecstasy and Edward Edward Edward.

I rest my head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. He's still inside me, but his cock is starting to soften. I raise my head, study his face. He opens his green eyes, soft and languid from the afterglow.

He sweeps my hair out of my face, tucking my tresses behind my ear. Edward traces the pad of his thumb along my lip. I kiss the tips of his fingers.

"Let me kiss you Bella."

He didn't even have to ask.


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

I'm never leaving Edward's bed ever again. We stumbled from the bathtub to his room a few hours ago and he won't stop kissing me. I'm not complaining. I think I could survive on his kisses alone for the rest of my life. I would be quite content, spending the rest of eternity exploring every last inch of Edward Cullen's body.

I discover a constellation of freckles on his right shoulder, a little arc of spots with a lone freckle making a point. When I connect the dots, they make the exact shape of a slice of pizza. I giggle to myself and he asks me, "What's so funny?" Edward snorts at my explanation and just goes back to his task at hand, namely memorizing the shape of my breasts with his mouth. I run my fingers along his shoulder blades, trace the slightly raised scars on his back.

"Where did these come from?"

He releases my nipple from his lips. "You ask too many questions," he says with a grimace.

I worry I've crossed the line. I honestly don't know where the line is anymore. It's probably some werewolf thing he doesn't want to talk about. I'm surprised at how quickly I've acclimated to the fact. Just another item on the rather small list of things I know about Edward Cullen. He has green eyes and reddish-brown hair. He doesn't like to talk much. He's amazing in bed. And he is a werewolf. This new information is strange and scary and I'm not sure if I'm entirely okay with it. But he's still Edward.

"I'm sorry, you don't have to tell me if you're not comfortable with it, I mean, it's none of my business-"

"Hey," he cups my face in his hand, "I was kidding." I relax visibly. "I don't know where they came from."

"How long have you had them?"

"I don't remember. Since always."

"What about this one?"

He glances down at the white scar on his elbow. "Freshman year. Some idiot kid fouled me hard during a basketball game."

"You played basketball?"

For a brief moment, the image of Michael J. Fox in Teenwolf crosses my mind and I stifle a giggle. Too late though. Edward catches me and just gives me the side eye, but the corner of his mouth curls up ever so slightly so he's not mad. I just can't imagine Edward as a skinny teenager in basketball shorts. In my mind he came out of the womb fully grown with a five o'clock shadow, clutching a flask and a pack of cigarettes.

"I did. Until that game. Carlisle thought it was too risky for me to play...with the blood issue and all." He kind of mumbles the last part.

I've touched his blood. It didn't even cross my mind when I was cleaning him up. I mean, why would it? Oh God. Edward's eyes go wide as he senses my growing concern. "Bella...fuck...you don't have to worry about that. It doesn't work that way. I have to be...changed, and then bite or scratch someone for them to be infected. I can't hurt you like this, when I'm...normal. Carlisle's just really cautious." His voice trails off toward the end.

My brain is buzzing with a multitude of scenarios of what could have gone wrong that night. If he had just gotten close enough to me that night, I could have...I could be... I don't want to think about it. It's too much for my brain to process right now. Part of me want to shrink away from him right now. But I look down at Edward and he has his eyes shut tight, rubbing the bridge of his nose as if he's in pain. I wish I hadn't brought it up. I wish I didn't feel this way.

"Edward..." I say, touching him softly.

"Edward."

He still won't open his eyes, so I kiss him on the mouth. I slip my tongue between his lips, pressing gently until he grants me entry, finally kissing me back. We forget ourselves for a short while. I leave all those words unsaid hanging between us like a knife and lose myself in Edward's skin. I push my doubt to the back of my mind. I think he knows I'm trying to distract him but he lets me anyway.

We can't stay in bed forever.

When the sex haze has lifted, when we are no longer safely entangled between his sheets, Edward's face dims and he sinks back into silence.

"I need to go to the workshop."

"Oh. Okay."

Of course he does. The doors have been open to the elements for days. Anything or anyone could have been in there this whole time. It hadn't even crossed my mind, but it explains his edginess.

"Do you want me to come with you?"

For a brief fleeting moment, I see a flicker of panic in Edward's eyes, but just as quickly, the mask is back. I don't know why I asked. I already know what his answer is going to be.

"No," he says finally, not really looking at my face.

I offer up a weak smile, eager to diffuse the tension. "It's okay. I'll just see you later I guess?"

Edward nods. I stand awkwardly and watch as he takes his keys, pausing at the door before walking out without another word.

I thought we were past this. Foolishly, I believed something had changed between us. Clearly, I was wrong.

He's gone all day. I make a valiant effort to wait up for him, but my body is completely drained from the past few days. After holding out as long as I can, with a sinking feeling I finally admit to myself that he's not coming back tonight. My heart feels like a lead weight in my chest. I go back to my own room, not Edward's. I'm not sure he wants me there anymore. The fireplace remains cold, unlit. I undress and slide under the covers, willing myself into a fitful sleep.

I'm woken by an arm snaking around my waist, Edward's cool body wrapped behind my own. His nose, inhaling deeply, running along the nape of my neck. I turn over to face him, to make sure he's real, that he's not a dream.

"Everything okay?"

He nods slowly. He lowers his eyes to my mouth, before pressing a soft kiss against my lips. I think I believe him. I want to.

* * *

><p>Edward was right.<p>

I suck at chopping wood. I make few valiant attempts, only narrowly missing my foot with the axe by mere inches. Wordlessly, Edward places his hand on the axe handle and takes the deadly instrument away from my grasp. I'm kind of mortified. There's no firewood left and I can't even manage this simple task. All those times I'd secretly spy on him, he made it look so effortless, natural, even sexy. As if the axe was just an extension of his well-muscled arms.

"We're going to freeze tonight," I tell him, apologetic.

"No we won't." He smirks at me. He wraps his good arm around my waist and pulls me close, placing a kiss on my lips. My distress is temporarily displaced. He's been kissing me all morning, but the newness hasn't worn off yet. I don't know if it ever will.

"Come on city girl, let's get some food in you."

We make pumpkin pancakes. Or rather, Edward does. He's too much of a control freak to cede over his kitchen to me for long. He points to a chair and orders me to sit while he cooks. I don't mind, I like watching the way he moves around the kitchen, in his natural habitat. He's not wearing the sling around his arm anymore either. I ask him about it and he just shrugs it off, says he's almost completely healed.

"Can I see?"

Edward looks reluctant, but he unbuttons his flannel anyway, pulling down his undershirt and exposing the injured shoulder to me. My eyes grow wide as I trace the place where his gunshot wound was only two days ago. In it's place is shiny, newly healed skin. This is unbelievable. It's impossible.

Edward watches my face warily, as I examine him. He looks nervous.

"How much longer until you're one hundred percent?"

"Another day. Probably."

"Are there any other...side effects? Besides healing quickly?" I keep my voice low, as if by doing so, I can just sneak the question past him.

He looks around the room for a bit, anywhere but my face. I've been trying to slowly coax him into opening up to me, but it's a delicate endeavor. Edward either shuts down completely or tries to evade my questions by distracting me, usually with sex. It usually works. I'm not complaining, it's preferable to the former and I'm probably guilty of it as well. Our relationship is so fragile, so new, I'm terrified of making the wrong choice and destroying it before we've even begun.

"I have heightened senses, all the time. I can hear, see, taste, and smell better than most humans."

I try to control my face, to not react to the fact that Edward does not consider himself human. He still won't look at me.

"A few days before the full moon, everything is more intense."

"So that first night, when we...in the hot tub?"

He nods. He drags his gaze along the length of my body. "I wanted you. From day one. But I made myself stay away from you."

He closes the space between us. It's like we just met all over again. I feel as if all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room.

"What changed?"

"You had on that tiny bikini..." He runs his hand along the side of my hip, sliding his fingers under the waistband of my jeans. "...and I could smell your arousal."

He's said far more obscene things to me but I blush deeply anyway. Edward leans into me, licking the nape of my neck. "I wanted to see if your pussy tasted as sweet."

Feeling bold, I ask, "Does it?"

"It's better," he whispers, pulling down my zipper. "You have the sweetest, wettest pussy Bella." He lifts me onto the kitchen table, roughly stripping me of my jeans and panties until I am completely naked from the waist down. He pulls up a chair and sits between my spread legs. I wait, as he slides his big hands up my inner thighs, eagerly anticipating the moment when he finally tastes me.

For the longest time, the only sound is the rise and fall of our breath. And then my moans, increasing in volume and intensity with every kiss from Edward's lips. His tongue, lapping and sucking my wet skin, two fingers fucking me. He makes me come, and then come again, until I am bucking into his face and screaming on the kitchen table. He takes one last lick before sitting up and grinning his crooked grin at me, his mouth and chin covered in my wetness. Edward wipes his face with the hem of his shirt. It's equal parts adorable and incredibly hot.

When I have recovered sufficiently, I move to get off the table but Edward stops me.

"Stay. I want to look at you."

"Okay." I smile at him, suddenly bashful. I lean forward and kiss his lips.

"That was amazing," I say. Edward just smirks, the smug bastard. He knows how good he is. I've had guys go down on me before and it was always mediocre at best. My ex always claimed to love giving oral, but he was only ever down there like, three minutes, max. When he could be bothered to do it, he'd just lap at me, these pathetic little kitten licks. I couldn't feel anything. Edward on the other hand, he always makes me feel like there is no other place in the world he would want to be except between my legs. He's just so...sensitive, responsive, so aware of my body it's eerie.

"I guess having a werewolf boyfriend has it's advantages."

I giggle a bit, but as soon as the words tumble out of my mouth, I know I've said the wrong thing. I watch the light drain from his eyes, and a look on his face replaced by horror. He pushes his chair away and looks down at the floor as he scrambles to close his shirt.

"Edward...don't," I say quickly, placing a hand on his wrist. He shakes me off. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."

He stops moving. It looks as if he's trying to calm himself down, willing himself into even breaths. I don't understand what is going through his head. Stupid stupid Bella. I shouldn't have called him a werewolf. But we were talking about it, so I thought it was okay, but I should have known better. Is it the boyfriend thing? We haven't talked about it, but what are we? I don't know what to say, I reach my hand out to touch him but pull back.

When he finally speaks he is quiet, defeated. "How can you stand it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Me. How can you stand being with me Bella?"

I begin to shake my head slowly. "Edward, I..."

"I'm a freak. A monster. An fucking abomination to nature. I never should have been born." he says the words so quietly, so evenly. He genuinely believes it. He's told himself this a million times, I think. It breaks my heart. "I killed my own mother. I could have killed you. How can you stand it? Why are you still here?" I jump when he slams his fist hard into the table.

"Edward, please. Please stop. You're not a monster. Stop saying that," I plead.

"No. It's the truth."

"No, it's not. Edward—"

I'm interrupted by a loud knock on the door. We both freeze and stare at the front door. In all of my two months here, I've never seen another soul. Not even a neighbor or a passing hiker. The cabin is hidden deep in the woods and is far off from the road, so whoever is at the door is not here by chance.

"Were you expecting someone?" I whisper.

"No." He looks perturbed, subconsciously moving to place himself between me and the front door. He picks my jeans and underwear up off the floor and shoves them into my hands. Without another word, Edward pulls me into the kitchen and pushes me into the pantry.

"Stay here."

I'm too surprised to argue. There is another loud knock at the door. Edward walks to the front of the house and I hear him pull his shot gun down. I hear the sound of the butt of the gun resting gently on the floor, and then Edward turning the locks.

The door opens, just a bit.

"Hello there." I hear a man's voice. He seems a little hesitant. He waits for Edward to respond. He doesn't. "I'm sorry to drop in on you unannounced. I'd like to introduce myself, I'm Dr. Bob Banner."

He sounds pleasant. Pretty harmless. The shotgun might have been a little over the top. But then again, that's how I met him and it may just be Edward's customary greeting. I can just picture this guy with his hand extended in greeting and Edward just looking at it in disdain. Edward says nothing. He's probably doing the thing where he stares you down and you don't know whether to run away or in my case, drop my panties and let him have his way with me. Dr. Banner, because he is most likely a normal, socialized person will want to fill the uncomfortable silence soon.

"Ah well, yes, I'm sorry I didn't call beforehand, it's just, I didn't have a number to call...Mister...what did you say your name was?" Undaunted by Edward's lack of response, the man continues. "Actually, the reason I came was...is Jasper Whitlock here_?_"


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

__"Is Jasper Whitlock here?"__

I can hear the blood pumping through my veins, a steady pulsing heat in the back of my head. It feels as if time has stopped, as the question hangs frozen in mid-air. Those four words threatening to bring our precarious existence crashing to the earth in an instant.

Edward doesn't speak a word.

I can only guess at what is running through his mind, most likely the same thoughts that are running through my own. I know how much is at stake here. His secret. His life. Our future. For a moment, I feel as if I possess Edward's supernatural senses. I can hear everything. My breathing sounds impossibly loud. The creak of the front porch as the man awaits Edward's response, the barrel of Edward's shotgun dragging along the floor as he shifts, ever so slightly. And at the top of my spine, the very real fear that Edward may do something terrible.

"There's no one by that name here."

"Oh? Really?" The surprise is evident in the man's voice. How does he know Jasper? I hear the rustling of paper. "The address I have for him is..." Banner reads, "913 September Road–"

"You have the wrong address," Edward cuts him off.

"Are you certain?"

"Yes."

There is a long pause before the man answers. "I must be mistaken. I'm sorry to have taken up so much of your time Mister...?" Banner is persistent. Edward doesn't offer a name. "I guess I should be on my way. If you do happen to hear from him, here is my card. My contact information is right there, my office phone where you can reach me and my cell."

I move quietly from my hiding place and peek my head around the corner and watch as Banner holds his business card out to Edward. The man is tall and dark with wire-rimmed glasses and looks to be in his mid-40s. Edward stares at him for a few minutes, ignoring the outstretched hand before taking the card from the man without looking at it. Banner lifts his head for a moment and spots me, briefly making eye contact. I gasp and shrink beyond his view.

"Sorry again to disturb you. I'll be going now."

I hear the door slam shut and the clicking of the locks. A short while later, the sound of a car engine starting and driving away. Many minutes pass and Edward does not move. I walk back out and he's resting his forehead against the front door breathing heavily. His hands are clenched into fists, knuckles white with tension.

"Edward?"

I take a step toward him but he remains still. I lean forward and slowly unwrap his fingers from the gun, removing it from his grasp. I lean it against the wall.

"You okay?

He flinches when I touch his shoulder. Turning to me, his face is ashen, damp with sweat. "Did you know that guy?"

Edward shakes his head no. I have so many questions but Edward seems to be as much in the dark as I am. I want to comfort him, shake that dead-eyed look from his face, but there is nothing I could say to make him feel better that would not ring false.

He searches his pockets for a cigarette. His hands are shaking. He finds one and lights it, taking a long drag. Edward's eyes pass over my body, as if just realizing I am there for the first time. I'm still clutching my jeans in my hands.

"Put your fucking clothes on."

It feels like a slap in the face. He goes to the kitchen, grabbing a dark bottle before stalking out the back door, slamming it shut.

* * *

><p>I find him smoking a cigarette in a small clearing, not too far from the house. The area is covered in grass, with just a few young saplings near the perimeter. It overlooked a deep valley, nothing but trees and mountain and sky for miles. The dark bottle is nearly empty. It lays forgotten in the grass by his feet. It's still chilly and Edward is clad only in his flannel and jeans, but he doesn't seem to notice the cold. I sit down next to him.<p>

Edward doesn't acknowledge my presence. I'm not sure how far gone he is, if he hasn't noticed I'm here or if he is willfully ignoring me. He tosses a used cigarette butt on to the ground.

"How many of those have you smoked?"

"Not enough."

"Maybe throwing those cigarette butts into the forest isn't the best idea?"

"I don't care."

He doesn't say anything else for a long while, just sits there puffing away. Sick of being ignored, I snatch the pack of cigarettes and lighter out of his right pocket. And though I've never smoked a cigarette in my life, I light it the way I've seen Edward do it a million times. He watches me curiously, as I inhale the smoke and hold it deep in my lungs, the way I would if I were smoking a bong. Big mistake. I immediately start hacking, my eyes watering with the effort. The side of Edward's mouth curls up slightly as he rubs circles on my back.

"Drink this."

I take the bottle from him and swallow it down without thinking. I wince as the liquid burns hot and angry down my throat. After I've sufficiently recovered, I look up at Edward who is still watching me with amusement. He takes the still lit cigarette from my hand and places it between his own lips. It's a surprisingly intimate gesture.

"Why do you smoke those things?"

"Because it looks cool," he says quietly.

Did Edward Cullen just crack a joke? He has a small smile on his lips.

"Alice hated my cigarettes. She banned smoking in the house, even though it was my house. The stubborn little bitch." The way Edward says it, "bitch" sounds like a term of endearment. "She made Jasper quit too. We would come out here sometimes and sneak a smoke, but she knew. Gave him hell every time. But he didn't stop."

My heart aches a little for him. He sounds a little wistful, or as wistful as Edward could ever get.

"I wish I could have known them."

He feels around in the grass until he finds my hand. He traces the healing scars on it lightly with his long fingers.

"Alice would have loved you. Jasper too."

It's not a loaded statement but in my overactive mind it is. What about you Edward? Would you have loved me too? I'm so hungry for those words he hasn't spoken. And I'm terrified he never will speak them.

"They were married here," he says nodding at the space in front of him. "Alice made herself a white dress, even though it was just the three of us. I was their witness. We ate and drank too much after and Alice threw up all night." He smiles at the memory. "She wouldn't let Jasper help her, said it was bad luck for him to see the bride."

"It sounds perfect."

"It was," he says quietly, looking at the ground.

My heart aches for them, even though Alice and Jasper are strangers to me. They sounded like good people. And it's clear Edward loved them. My heart breaks for him too. The one left behind to mourn the dead. He's too far away. I slide myself closer to him, wrapping an arm around his waist. He holds me close to his side.

"Alice wanted a baby, but Jasper wouldn't even consider it. The risk of it coming out and being...like us was too great. It was too dangerous."

In a few moments of weakness, I had let myself imagine the possibility of a life with Edward. In my fantasy there was nothing else but Edward, just the way we were now. I never wanted anything more. I hadn't given any thought of future children. In my mind having kids was something other people did, not me. But the image of Edward holding a tiny fat baby with green eyes pops into my head and it is impossible to unsee. I'd be lying if it didn't stir something deep within me that I never knew I possessed.

"What did you think?"

"I would never bring a child into this world. I wouldn't wish this...condition upon anybody."

I don't know how to take this information. Edward looks down at me, watching my expression. I don't know what to say. A life with Edward would mean I would never be able to have children. I'm not even sure I want to have a baby, definitely not anytime soon. But the finality of it. There are too many questions that I'm not prepared to face just yet.

"She got pregnant anyway. He was furious at first because she lied to him and stopped taking her birth control. Alice threatened to leave, said she'd raise the baby on her own. She was always a little thing, even smaller than you," he says, running his fingers through my hair. "She started to show pretty early and he couldn't stay mad at her for long. He was terrified, I mean, we both were. We didn't know what was going to come out. And I was worried about Alice too. You know what happened to my mother."

I nod, finding his hand and lacing his fingers through my own. "Did Alice have the baby?"

"No." He pauses for a long time. "She was seven months along when they died."

"I'm sorry Edward."

He closes his eyes and kisses me softly at my temple.

"This is where they are buried. I couldn't put a gravestone so I planted those three trees." I hadn't noticed earlier but there are cigarettes lined up along the trunk of one of the saplings. I wonder how often Edward comes here, to hold his silent lonely vigil. A half moon has risen, hanging high in the sky. I've never felt so small, so insignificant. Our fate, Jasper and Alice's fate determined by circumstances far beyond our control.

"Bella..." there's something in his voice that makes my heart sink. I look up at him but he won't meet my eyes. "This can't go on any longer. You have to go home Bella," he says in a quiet voice.

It would be easier if he would rage and scream at me. It would soften the blow if I could be angry at him. That night he blew up at me, I know now that he was lying. He said those awful things to me because he was afraid. He didn't mean them. I thought we had a chance but something has changed. The stranger at the door, the reality of our situation looms dark over us. Alice and Jasper loved one another and it still wasn't enough. They still lost each other, in the worst possible way in the end.

My heart hurts. I can't be mad at him when he's just being Edward, still and sensitive and unknowable. There's nothing I can say that will change his mind. He doesn't want me here anymore. He doesn't want me.

"I can't give you..." He takes a deep breath, "We can't have any future together. I can't be with you Bella. I'm sorry."

The tears fall from my face, big fat drops down my cheeks, but I don't make a sound. "Please don't cry," Edward says, kissing my tears, knowing full well that he was the one that put them there.

* * *

><p>In the morning, Edward drives me to the bus station. I watch him through the window, never breaking his gaze until the bus pulls away and I can no longer see his face.<p> 


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

"No pets, no drugs, no psychos. If you need to bang some dude you met at the bar, don't bring him back here. I don't need some random in my house stealing my shit. And pay your rent on time. "

"Got it."

"One more thing B," she says, shooting a withering look at my ratty sneakers, "no shoes in the house."

I nod and hurriedly toe my Converse off immediately. She smiles for the first time since I've arrived and I relax a bit, but not too much. I may be a little terrified of my new roommate. I'm ashamed to admit I felt an involuntary pang of jealousy when I first met her. She is model pretty, with pale skin, blue eyes, and blonde hair that didn't come out of a bottle. She's covered in tattoos and as far as I can see, hers aren't trite or clichéd or embarrassing. We're about the same height, but I feel about three feet tall standing next to Rosalie Hale.

It was scary finding a roommate on craigslist, but I knew my ex for years before moving in with him. He turned out to be a psycho and last guy I lived with was a werewolf. I spent a week taking the El to view apartments that either smelled like cat piss or in which the current tenants saw fit to leave used condoms lying in plain view on the nightstand. I was ready to sign the lease on the spot when I walked into Rose's place. It was immaculate, beautiful, and right on the lake. The rent was surprisingly reasonable. It seemed like a good place to lick my wounds.

Rose is not the warmest person. I think she's still trying to size me up. But she has deemed me not-psychotic enough to move in with her so I've got that going for me.

"I googled you."

"What?" I ask, taken aback.

"I googled you, before you came here. Just to make sure you were who you said you were and not a gross dude. Full disclosure."

"Thanks?"

"Laundry room's at the end of the hall. Is that seriously all your stuff?" she asks, eyes narrowing.

I had taken one look at the storage space that I had been paying rent on for months, stuffed with boxes and boxes of junk that I no longer wanted and donated most of it. The only things I kept were my clothes and books. The contents of my entire life currently fit inside the trunk of a taxi. I don't even have a bed. Rose watches my face, the wheels in her head turning but she doesn't inquire.

"You can crash on the couch. You took a cab here, right?" I nod. " I'm off tomorrow. If you want, I can drive you to the Ikea in Schaumburg to pick up a few things."

"Thanks Rose. That's really kind of you." I am genuinely touched by the gesture. And I'm grateful that she isn't asking too many questions.

I find myself riding in the backseat of a SUV driven by Rosalie's giant boyfriend Emmett. He volunteered his services and his car as soon as he heard there would be swedish meatballs involved. I'm secretly relieved he's here. They banter and bicker and do whatever it is people in a normal and healthy relationship do and I mostly go ignored.

I try not to think about him. Really I do. But in a city of close to three million people, I find myself more alone than ever. Only a few weeks ago I was living on a mountain with a man I was falling hard for. I breathed clean air and sticky sweet redwoods and smoke. My mornings were pink clouds and dense fog, inky black nights and millions of stars. It feels surreal. It's as if those few weeks belonged to someone else's life.

My reality now is a brutally frigid Chicago mired in grey, still shaking off the final dregs of endless winter. Now I trudge through the slush and ride city buses and avoid making eye contact with strangers. I keep hoping this is the nightmare that I will wake up from. But I never do.

I don't know why I moved back. I could have gone some place sunny, like Los Angeles. I could have been one of those smug people who referred to everything east of Las Vegas as "east coast" and then boast about the weather as if I had something to do with it. But the devil you know and all that.

Ikea is an endless labyrinthian nightmare. I can't decide if it will be more sad to buy a double bed that I know I will be the only one sleeping in, or face reality and get the twin. I purchase the bare minimum I need to get by. I keep telling myself this situation is temporary even though I know I am lying to myself. I buy the double bed.

* * *

><p>Esme has left me at least a dozen voicemails since I came back and twice as many emails. I never told her I was coming back to Chicago so he must have called her. Perhaps he knew I'd need some mothering after he broke my heart. I can't bring myself to call her back. The shame of not having written a single word in the last few months hangs heavily upon me. I promise myself I'll call her back when I have a few chapters written.<p>

I accidentally packed one of his shirts when I left. It still smelled like him so I wore it to bed for a week and now his scent has faded. If I close my eyes and try hard enough I swear I can detect a hint of tobacco. I consider putting it in a ziplock bag to preserve the scent and then don't because that would be pathetic. I don't even have a picture of him. It never occured to me to take one and now I regret not doing so. I buy his favorite whiskey and drink a silent toast to him every night. I say a little prayer, in the hope that he has not yet drowned himself in alcohol.

"What's his name?" Rose asks me suddenly one morning.

"What?"

"The dude that you're crying over." She says this casually, as if we were discussing the weather.

"I'm not crying over anyone."

"Right. And the reason why you've been wearing that ugly oversized men's shirt for three weeks straight is...?"

"There's no one," I say in a small voice. I hate how meek I sound.

"Whatever, it's none of my business anyway." She goes back to reading her paper. I stare at my coffee for a while. I thought I was being discreet. Apparently not. Or maybe Rose is just really perceptive. She looks at me over her thick tortoiseshell glasses. I guess she decides it is her business because in a softer voice she says, "B, whoever it is, no dude is worth this much misery. You look like hell, girl."

"Thanks alot Rose."

"Well, you do look like hell." She shrugs. "What do you want me to do? Lie? Look, I don't know you that well yet, but you seem like a decent person. And when you're showered and not dressed in flannel, you're kind of a babe. So obviously, this asshole that broke your heart is clearly an idiot."

I can't help but smile a little. In her characteristically blunt way, Rosalie is trying. She's completely wrong, of course. He is worth it. He's not an idiot. He might be a little bit of an asshole. She smiles back at me.

"Thanks for the pep talk."

"Anytime."

I don't feel any better. But carrying a torch for him isn't going to do me any good. Making like Miss Havisham in my plaid flannel will not change a thing about our situation. It won't bring him back to me. It won't make him want to be with me.

I wish he had given me a reason to hate him. It would make the letting go easier. But as much as I try, I can't hate him. I mourn him. My heart breaks for him. His mountainside might as well be a prison cell. And he of all people does not deserve this. Underneath the gruffness, the rough exterior, is a beautiful man, and despite what he says, a good man. He doesn't deserve to die alone.

* * *

><p><em>"We can sit here all day, I'm getting paid to be here. It's your time you're wasting." Banner sits back in his chair and takes off his glasses, cleaning them with the hem of his white jacket. He places them back on his head and meets his patient's eye with a steely gaze. The man stares right back.<em>

_"Do you want to be rehabilitated?"_

_"I'm here. What do you think?"_

_"I need you to answer some questions then."_

_"Why?"_

_"It's part of your treatment."_

_"Look, I let you stick me with needles and run a million fucking tests. Just give me the fucking drugs and fix me."_

_"We've been through this before. The treatment is involves daily individual psychotherapy concurrent with drug treatment therapies. I can't prescribe you anything until I'm certain you are willing to undergo the psychiatric treatment as well. How serious are you about getting better?_

_The man glares back, but Banner is unperturbed. He writes something in his notes but the man cannot see his words. They sit in silence for ten long minutes. Finally, the man drops his gaze. He stares out the window at the glass and metal and concrete of downtown._

_"Can I smoke in here?" He asks, already pulling out a cigarette from his shirt pocket and placing it in his mouth._

_"No."_

_The man ignores Banner and lights the cigarette anyway. Banner sighs and walks over to the window, opening it._

_"Fine, you can smoke. Just do it by the window please."_

_The man sits on the window ledge, tapping his ashes into a sad houseplant resting on the sill. _

_"I could use a drink."_

_"You know you aren't allowed to have any alcohol here."_

_He says nothing. The man finishes his cigarette and immediately lights another. _

_"Alright. Have at me."_

_"Edward, how long have you been a werewolf?_


	13. Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

"Look, I know you're having a rough time. Really, I do. But this behavior isn't healthy. It has got to stop."

"Don't listen to her Bella. Bitch is just jealous."

"Fuck off Emmett. I'm cutting you off. No sex for a week," Rosalie spits at him.

"Your loss," he replies nonchalantly. I stop what I'm doing and watch Emmett stuff his mouth with an entire cupcake in one fell swoop. It is equal parts impressive and disgusting. He grins at me, all dimples and chocolate frosting on his lips.

"No sex for a month then."

"That's cool," he says, reaching for another one. "What are you making now Bella?"

"A lattice-top apple pie. There's a teeny tiny bit of bacon in the crust, it sounds disgusting but–"

"No it doesn't," he cuts me off. "That sounds like Emmett food."

"This is what I'm talking about. You can't drown your sorrows in butter and bacon fat. Some of us are not blessed with the metabolism of Garbage Disposal over here." Rosalie pats Emmett's head, not without affection. "I'm putting my foot down. No more baked goods."

Emmett has lazily wrapped his arm around Rosalie's waist. She runs her fingers through the mop of curly brown hair on the top of his head. I should be jealous of their easy affection, but I'm not, surprisingly. Our relationship was never like that. Those brief moments of happiness were few and far between. The threat of saying or doing the wrong thing always lurked near the forefront of my mind.

"Baby," Emmett says, squeezing Rosalie's side, "you have the cutest love handles."

She shoots him a disgusted look before smacking him hard on the head with a loud _thwack_. He rubs his head and grins wolfishly before turning his attentions back to the remaining cupcakes.

"Okay Rose. No more baked goods I promise."

"You need to get out of the house. Sitting and staring at a computer all day isn't doing you any good. Let's go out tonight, find you a nice dude to bang. Anything to get you over Edgar."

"Edward. His name is Edward," I say quietly.

"Edgar, Edward, whatever. I knew it was something lame."

It sounds awful. I don't want a random stranger to have sex with. But she badgers me relentlessly until I reluctantly agree to go out with them tonight. I send Emmett home with the apple pie.

I have retired his flannel shirt from my daily uniform. It's all Rosalie's doing. I know she's right, I need to move on. I keep it hanging on a hook on my bedroom door for now. It's oddly comforting, just knowing it's there for him if he ever shows up in Chicago needing a shirt. I will be prepared.

The bar isn't awful. I was dreading having to listen to shitty house music all night surrounded by clouds of Axe body spray, but Rosalie picked a pretty low key place. I can handle this. The music is good and they have decent beers on tap. I suspect Rosalie may have had a hand in carefully selecting who Emmett was allowed to bring tonight because they are all attractive and seem like nice guys. As the lone available female, the guys decide to focus all of their attentions on me. I smile and behave as if I'm having a good time.

It has become a habit for me lately when I'm out in public to scan the crowd, searching for auburn hair and green eyes. I know it's useless but I can't seem to stop. Occasionally I spot a familiar flash of reddish-brown but then he turns and it belongs to the wrong person.

After it becomes clear that I'm not really interested in flirting, the other guys make their excuses and drift away to find more receptive audiences. Except for this guy Tyler. I don't mind him. He's kind of pretty actually. He has blond hair and is tall and lanky. As he talks with me, I can't help thinking his eyes are the wrong color. He smiles too much.

I catch Rosalie grinning at me and I roll my eyes at her. She flips me the bird. I'm not the best with people I don't know well, but Tyler is easy to talk to. He's funny, and sweet and self-deprecating. He probably wouldn't break my heart. He probably is not a werewolf.

I think he's into me. I can tell he's trying to steer the conversation toward us hanging out in the near future. He's going to casually suggest we go see his friend's cover band or a new gallery opening in Pilsen. We'll go on a few dates. On the third date, he will make me dinner at his apartment and then we'll have sex on his futon. The sex will be okay, nothing earth shattering. Tyler will go down on me, dutifully, once a week because he is a nice guy. After a respectable period of time, he'll call me his girlfriend.

I don't want this. At all. Time to nip this in the bud before Tyler gets the wrong idea.

"So Tyler, do you have any siblings?" I ask.

"No, I'm an only child."

"Me too. I always wanted a big family."

"A big family sounds nice. I used to wish for an older brother when I was a kid," he says grinning. He really does have a winning smile.

"I'm glad you feel that way. You seem like you'd be a really great dad."

His smile falters, just for a millisecond, but to his credit he recovers quickly. "I've never really given it much thought, but thanks Bella. Nobody's ever said that to me before."

"I just had a feeling about you when we first met, you know? I bet you have great genes."

He doesn't know what to say to this, so he just smiles at me and takes a gulp of his beer.

"I want a big family. At least six kids, three boys and three girls. Like _The Brady Bunch_ and Angelina Jolie." Tyler is starting to fidget, his hand reaching for his cell phone, desperately searching for an exit. I feel a little sorry for the guy.

"The point is, my biological clock is ticking. I want to have a lot of babies and I need to get started asap, while I'm still fertile. Like, yesterday."

I take a sip of my beer and await his response. Tyler shifts nervously on his bar stool.

"Wow, that's really..." he trails off, completely at a loss for words. I mean, what is the appropriate response to the crazy girl you just met who tells you she wants to have six babies with you?

I take the cell phone from his hand and program my number into it.

"We should go see a show sometime. I'm into shitty cover bands, they're my absolute favorite,"I say, handing the phone back to him.

Tyler half-mumbles something non-commital, before making his excuses and getting the hell out of Dodge. Bye Tyler. It was nice while it lasted. You would have been a great boyfriend. Rosalie was too far away to hear our conversation but she saw me giving Tyler my number. She smiles at me across the table. I give her a thumbs up.

* * *

><p>Esme told me on the phone that they don't keep alcohol in the house, so I brought a bottle of sparkling cider and a bouquet of ranunculus. We've been out for drinks before and Esme is quite fond of her rosé. But not too fond of it. So it must be Carlisle who is on the wagon.<p>

I feel sheepish about avoiding her for all these weeks. I have written just enough that I feel comfortable showing my face. It's complete garbage of course, a rehash of the first book, but at least I have something on paper. My editor opens the front door of her swank brownstone and immediately embraces me in a bone-crushing hug. She is genuinely happy to see me. With a beaming smile, she looks me over.

"Oh Bella honey, has anyone been feeding you? You're skin and bones! Come inside!"

She ushers me in, taking my coat and thanking me for the bottle and the flowers. I've known Esme for some time now, but I've never seen her house. It looks like Esme, beautiful and fancy and adult. I wonder if Edward grew up in this house. I can't imagine him here. There are high ceilings with crown molding, polished hardwood floors, and real serious artwork on the walls. Esme has impeccable taste. She gives me a tour, all the while apologizing for Carlisle's absence. He was working late but should join us in a little while. I search the house for traces of Edward but find nothing.

"Dinner smells delicious Esme." The aroma wafting from the kitchen is heavenly.

"I have to say, I really outdid myself this time. I've been slaving away all day."

"Esme, you shouldn't have. Seriously. So, what are we having?"

"Take out." She giggles. "I can't even boil water. The kitchen is Carlisle's. And Edward's when he's in town."

"Does he visit often?"

"It depends, on whether or not he has a reason to come to Chicago."

She is glancing at me surreptitiously, gauging my reaction. Goddamnit. She knows somehow. I doubt Edward told her anything about us. I keep a neutral expression plastered on my face.

"I love your kitchen."

The kitchen is gorgeous. There are white marble countertops and pristine looking Viking appliances. An honest to goodness chandelier hangs over the kitchen island. I run my fingers along the cool white marble. "I'd kill to bake in here. This island is would be perfect for rolling pie crusts."

"Honey, any time you feel like baking, feel free to come here and use the kitchen."

"Thanks Esme. I might have to take you up on that."

"You better. You know, Edward built that island."

I flinch a little. "Really? It doesn't look like his typical style."

"Edward showed you his work?" Esme sounds genuinely surprised. She is now watching me closely with a small smile on her lips. I'm almost certain that I must be red as a beet right now. "I'm shocked, that boy is so secretive usually."

"I know." I pretend to take an inordinate amount of interest in the cookbooks lining a shelf. There is the sound of the front door opening. Carlisle is home. Bless that man for having perfect timing.

"This must be the lovely Bella I've heard so much about."

Carlisle is handsome, but he doesn't look at all like Edward. I'm a little disappointed. He smiles at me warmly, but there's something else there that I can't quite put my finger on.

We move to the dining room and eat the dinner that Esme has ordered. He seems pleasant, asking me about my work, my time living with Edward. They try to pump me for information on Edward. I'm not surprised that he rarely, if ever, writes or calls. I give purposely vague answers. He values his privacy above all else. They are not my secrets to tell. All the while, I feel as if I'm under a microscope.

The feeling of being scrutinized and the cramps I am beginning to feel make me squirm in my seat. I just had my period two weeks ago so it must be the food. But Esme and Carlisle seem unaffected. She is filling me in on some juicy publishing gossip but I'm having a hard time paying attention. My skin feels clammy and it is becoming nearly impossible to act like nothing is wrong with me. I feel a sudden sharp pain in my abdomen and jerk violently.

"Bella sweetie, are you alright?" Esme asks, concerned from across the table.

"I'm fine," I say rising. I feel woozy from the sudden movement. "If you would please excuse me for a moment. Where is your washroom?" I stifle a moan, clutching my belly.

Esme lets out an inhuman shriek. She and Carlisle immediately rush to my side. I apologize for making a scene, reassure Esme that I am fine, but she doesn't seem to hear me. I don't understand the horrified expressions their faces until I look down and see that I'm bleeding quite heavily. The front of my dress is soaked in blood. I'm completely mortified. I've gotten blood all over Esme's expensive white table linens.

I begin to apologize again when another wave of pain washes over me and the last thing I hear is Esme screaming at Carlisle to call 911.


	14. Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

The first time I awaken, I can hear Emmett and Rosalie talking but they must be in another room. Their voices are muted, like they are underwater. I'm drifting in and out sleep, floating just on the surface. My ears feel thick, heavy, as if they've been stuffed with cotton wool.

"Jesus Christ Em. I had no fucking clue. I just thought she was just being emo."

"You didn't know. She never said anything right?"

"I know, but fuck! Why do I have to be such a bitch all the time?" In a softer voice, she says "Bella honey, when you come home you can bake all the goddamn apple pies you want. "

She strokes my face, tucking my hair behind my ears. Rosalie sounds so sad. I kind of like that she's a bitch. I wish I could be more like Rosalie sometimes. I want to reach out and tell her it's okay, but I try to lift my arm and it doesn't move. My head feels like it's been coated in a thick white fog. My eyelids are welded shut and I am so so tired.

"Did you find that Edgar guy?" Emmett asks.

"No. But when I do find him I'm going to castrate him. How the hell could he do that to this poor little girl?"

"Maybe he didn't know."

"You're not seriously defending him?"

"I'm just saying. Maybe she didn't know. I mean, she was drinking beer with us the other night at the bar."

Rosalie is quiet for a while. Who is Edgar? And why does she want to chop off his balls?

"I can't find anything on this dude Emmett. No phone. No email. The most I could find was an address to a house in northern California owned by a woman named Elizabeth Masen, who by the way, is dead. That's it. He must pay cash for everything because there's no paper trail. No credit cards, bank statements. Nothing. Something is not right with this guy."

"I don't know, shouldn't we call her mom or something?"

"There's no one Em. Believe me, I looked. Poor girl. Her dad had a heart attack just a few months ago. Her mom's been MIA for years. The only living relative I could find was this great aunt in Seattle. But she's like, 92 and senile."

"Oh Little B," Emmett sighs heavily. I don't know how Rose knows about Charlie. I never talk about him. I don't understand why they sound so sad. It's too much to think right now and my brain can't keep up. I just want to sleep. I sink further and further into the bed until I am cocooned in velvety black darkness.

The second time I wake Rosalie and Emmett are gone. I hear a woman's voice, it's Esme. She's speaking in a low tone and she sounds distraught. Why is everyone so upset right now?

"Did you get a hold of him?"

"I tried Esme. I called the house again and again but it went straight to voicemail everytime. I even asked someone in town to drive up to the house to check on him, but he said it was dark and there was no car in the driveway. Said it looked like the house had been closed up for some time."

"I just cannot fathom how he could abandon her like this, leave her all alone to deal with this...He's your son, you need to find him."

"Look, I'm trying as hard as I can. But you know as well as I, when Edward doesn't want to be found it's damned near impossible to reach him..." He adds carefully, "...and we're not 100% sure it is even his."

"Don't be absurd Carlisle. You know it was his. You saw the way she blushed whenever we said his name."

Are they talking about Edward? Did something happen to him? I can open my eyes this time. I'm in a hospital bed. Esme and Carlisle haven't noticed me yet. She looks tired, her eyes are red and puffy, as if she's been crying. Carlisle is dressed in his white coat. She turns and sees me, rushes to my side.

"Bella sweetie, how are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," I say, but it comes out more like a croak. Esme hands me a cup of water and I swallow it down greedily. I look down at my lap. I'm dressed in a thin light blue hospital gown. The dinner party. Images of a skirt covered in blood pop into my head and I remember with horrifying clarity what just happened last night. Or was it the night before? I have no idea when and where I am.

"Oh my God, Esme I'm so sorry. I don't know what happened, I just, I started to feel sick and then there was all this blood. I don't know. I'm so sorry, you have to let me pay for your table linens."

"Hush now. Don't apologize. Are you sure you're okay?" Esme says soothingly.

"Are you in any pain Bella?" Carlisle asks.

"No." I feel oddly numb right now. "What happened?"

"We had to perform an emergency D&C on you Bella."

I don't know what any of this means. He may as well be speaking latin right now.

"I'm so sorry Bella...The embryo didn't make it."

Embryo?

"I don't understand."

"You had a miscarriage Bella. This happens to a lot of young women–"

Miscarriage? I cut him off, shaking my head in confusion. "What are you talking about? I'm not pregnant."

Carlisle and Esme exchange worried looks. She is holding my hand now. It feels like someone is pressing down hard on my chest. I can't breathe. I can't look at her or I will cry. I turn back to Carlisle.

"I can't be pregnant. I had my period two weeks ago."

"Some women experience spotting even during pregnancy. It looks like you were about six weeks along..."

It's impossible. I couldn't have been pregnant. He was careful. Every time. He never came inside me without a condom. Except...My heart sinks as I remember the morning he kissed me for the first time. I fucked him in the bath tub and I didn't once stop to think about protection. I didn't care.

Carlisle is saying something to me but I don't hear the words coming out of his mouth. He has that same furrow that Edward gets when he is doing something difficult, just above his right brow. Esme is crying now. I just stare at his lips but I see nothing.

* * *

><p>"Enough. I'm kicking you out."<p>

"What?"

"Between you and Esme, I haven't had a single moment to myself in the past five days. Seriously, aren't you sick of me yet?"

"No. Okay, maybe a little," my roommate admits.

"Good. The feeling's mutual.

"B, I really don't mind. I want to be here for you."

"I don't need to be babysat." She flinches a little at the word. "I won't slit my wrists, I swear. Go on. You can be here for me, just do it somewhere else."

"You sure?"

"Positive."

Because I think she thinks I expect it, she hugs me, but I can tell it's not a natural thing for Rose. She's not a particularly touchy feely person, except with Emmett. She awkwardly pats me on the back, a kind of creepy frail hug. Even if she gives crappy hugs, I do appreciate the gesture.

"Get out of here. Go have sex with your boyfriend."

"You're really sure? I am happy to stay here and watch some shitty romcoms with you."

"We are done having this conversation."

She grins. "Thanks B. Emmett is probably getting tired of his hand by now."

"Jesus. TMI Rose. Just go."

Rosalie is relentless. She asks if I want her to stay again before I finally have to physically push her out of the house. I watch her from the window. She looks back at me and waves, before getting into her car and driving away.

When I am certain she is not coming back, I walk to my bedroom and shut the door.

He's gone. They can't find a trace of him anywhere. In my delusional mind, I still held on to the hope that there was a chance we could be together. I was comforted by the thought that he was waiting for me on that mountain. That I could go back some day and find him again. But he seems to have vanished off the face of the Earth.

I cry all the tears I haven't been able to shed since I left him. I cry for the baby I didn't even want.

I didn't want the baby. But sometimes the thought of a little baby with Edward's face, his eyes. It might have been enough. Maybe. Something to hold on to.

Even now, I know these are all lies that I tell myself. It could never be enough. He's all I want. He's all I ever wanted. And he's not waiting for me anywhere. He doesn't want me. A mountain top wasn't remote enough, he needed to disappear completely. He need to be somewhere I could never find him again.

* * *

><p><em>"How are you feeling Edward?"<em>

_"Shitty."_

_"Would you care to elaborate?"_

_"I can't sleep. I can't keep any food down. I feel like shit. And you won't let me drink."_

_"Those are normal side effects to the medication. It may take your body some time to get used to it. We can try adjusting your dosage until we find what works best for you."_

_"It's not working."_

_"I've had other patients with your condition on the same regimen as you with very successful results."_

_"I don't fucking believe you. I know it's not working."_

_"How do you know that?"_

_"Because I'm still a fucking...werewolf."_

_"You just need to give it a little more time Edward." _

_"I don't have any more time. The fucking full moon is in two weeks."_


	15. Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

_"You told me your father helped you. Describe to me what he would do."_

_"What the hell does Carlisle have to do with this?"_

_Banner says nothing. He possesses infinite patience. They had been down this road before._

_"He'd give me drugs, tranquilizers. And then he'd lock me in the basement. I'd take off my clothes and wait."_

_"How did that make you feel Edward?"_

_"Are you fucking kidding me? Enough of this psychoanalytic bullshit. How do you think it made me feel?"_

_Banner doesn't seem to hear Edward's outburst. "Just answer the question Edward."_

_The other man is silent, a series of emotions flash across his face, before he catches himself and slips his mask back on. He grinds the stub of his cigarette into the pot of an ailing houseplant. It's remaining leaves riddled with burn holes. _

_"It felt shitty...He couldn't even look me in the eye, just talked to a space next to me, like he was looking through me. I felt like a monster."_

_"What happened when you woke up?"_

_"I would be alone. No memory of the previous night. The room would be trashed. I would unlock the door and find Carlisle passed out somewhere. He would drink until he blacked out."_

_"Why do you call him Carlisle? Why not 'Dad'?"_

_"It's his name. 'Dad' never felt right."_

_"Did he drink often?"_

_"Not at first. Only on the nights when...I would change. But then it became more frequent as I got older."_

_"How frequent?"_

_"Every night. Sometimes during the day."_

_"Did he ever hurt you Edward?"_

_Edward looks up. He quickly replies, "No. Of course not."_

_"Did you ever tell anyone about your father's drinking problem?"_

_"No."_

_"Why not?"_

_"Because he needed it."_

* * *

><p><em>"How do you feel Edward?"<em>

_"How do you think I feel Bob?" _

_"I would prefer it if you would call me Dr. Banner. I hear you haven't been eating."_

_"There's no fucking point. I can't keep anything down anyway." He's slouched down in his seat, looking pale and drained. "Besides, the food here tastes like garbage."_

_"I'm sorry to hear that. How have you been sleeping?"_

_"I haven't."_

_"Any headaches? Nausea? Vomiting?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Those are all normal reactions to the medication."_

_"It's not working. All it's doing is slowing me down and making me feel like shit."_

_"It will work Edward. You just need to give it more time."_

_Edward is appalled, speechless. He shakes his head in disbelief._

_"What do you think will happen on the night of the full moon?" Banner asks._

_"You already know the answer to that Bob."_

_"I want to hear you say it."_

_Edward turns to face Banner. He says evenly, "I turn into a wolf. And if you don't lock me down, I will kill every single person in this ward."_

* * *

><p><em>"Have you ever had an intimate relationship with a woman?"<em>

_Edward raises an eyebrow. He looks like he might ignore the question, but after some time responds._

_"Yes."_

_"How many women?"_

_"Too many to count."_

_"Are you being facetious?"_

_"No. I can't remember them all. Dozens. Maybe more."_

_"Why not?"_

_Edward shakes his head. "I don't know. I was drunk? I never asked for a name? Why does it matter?"_

_Banner considers this. "How would you describe those relationships? Purely sexual or were there feelings involved?"_

_"Sexual."_

_"Describe those sexual encounters to me."_

_Edward is skeptical. "You some kind of pervert Bob?" he demands, his eyes narrowing._

_"No," Banner says dryly. "Answer the question."_

_"It was just fucking."_

_"And how would you characterize those sexual acts?"_

_"You are a pervert Bob."_

_"I'm just trying to understand."_

_"What? You want me to tell you how I fucked them? What positions? Oral? Anal?"_

_Banner decides to try a different tack. "Describe your last sexual encounter."_

_Edward ignores the question. He looks out the window. From the high-rise he can see the whole skyline of the city. It is a beautiful clear day, the sky and the lake are almost the same blue, you can barely make out the line where the water meets the horizon. _

_"Bob, I think you need to water this thing. It's not looking so good," Edward says finally, tapping his ashes into the flower pot._

_Banner looks at the half-dead phalaenopsis on his window sill and shakes his head. _

_"And the women? Did you treat them well?"_

_Edward looks at him with disgust. "I'm not an animal. I made sure they came a few times at least. If they wanted to," he adds._

_"Have you ever been in a romantic relationship Edward? Ever been in love?"_

_The question takes him by surprise. He swallows, almost imperceptibly, before turning back to meet Banner's gaze and saying quietly, "No."_

* * *

><p>Just choose one. Any one will do.<p>

I look out on a sea of smiling faces. They place is jammed, everyone is laughing, having a good time. Rose and Emmett are out on the middle of a packed dance floor.

It's Smiths' night at Danny's. It's the only reason I could be convinced to go out. I thought I would be greeted by a few dozen overgrown teenagers in black looking like existential heroes. I thought that they'd look the way I felt on the inside. But no. Sadly that is not the case. Kids these days are post-emo. I didn't even know you could dance to The Smiths.

Emmett is going absolutely bonkers, shaking his ass like a madman to the sound of Morrissey's entreaties to hang the DJ. Rose looks mildly embarrassed, the first time I've ever seen such an expression on her face, but she laughs at him and continues dancing anyway. She catches my eye and grins at me, gesturing at me to come join them. I smile back at her and shake my head, hold my whiskey on the rocks up to her in salute.

Tyler is here. He spots me and it's too late for him to pretend he hadn't seen me. He's a nice boy. He comes over and says hello and we make some awkward small talk. I lie, of course. I can't tell him I've been laying in bed and crying for the past few days. So I tell him I've been working a lot. Which is true. I decided yesterday to quit moping. I still feel like shit, but I'm distracting myself with writing. I've been tapping away at my laptop, just trying to get this novel out of the way so I can fulfill the terms of my contract.

Tyler makes his excuses and bids me goodbye. Before he leaves, I can't resist and make a telephone motion with my hand and mouth to him to "Call me." And then I rub my belly.

I watch him don his coat and leave the bar a few minutes later.

Rose comes back, her eyebrows raised. She asks suspiciously, "What did you do to that poor boy?"

"I don't know what you're talking about Rose." I say, taking a sip of my drink.

"Bullshit. Tyler looked like he was about to throw up."

I shrug. "I think he might have a little crush."

"Who might have a crush?" Emmett asks, coming over with two beers. He hands Rose the other bottle.

"Tyler. He wants to bang Bella."

"Oh yeah? Where is he?" Emmett asks, looking around.

"He went home. I think he's working up the nerve to ask me out."

Emmett gives me a wide beaming smile. He raises his hand and I high-five him back. "Nice."

Rosalie and Emmett want me so badly to be better. They've been nothing but supportive and I don't want to let them down. I want to be better for them. I'm tired of feeling this way. Heartache is a real, physical thing. The hurt, the sadness permeates every single cell membrane, I feel it in my blood, in every breath. It is the one constant in my life these days.

I came here to find a guy to have a dirty one night stand with. I just want to forget. They always say it's so easy to get laid as a girl. I'm sick of hearing that. Yes, it's easy to get laid if you have absolutely no standards whatsoever. I may be in a funk, but I'm not going to sleep with the first grease ball that buys me a drink. It's too bad I scared Tyler away. He would have been perfect.

I scan the room for a suitable candidate. I lock eyes with one guy who looks like he's recently been exiled from Wrigleyville. He's sporting a spray tan. Unacceptable. What is he doing here anyway? I spot a cute guy a few feet away, perched on a barstool. He's wearing a flannel. Dark Jeans. They look like an expensive raw japanese denim, the hem of his jeans carefully turned up to show the selvedge. No. Too high maintenance. His buddy is a brunette, ruggedly handsome, with a neatly trimmed beard. Plaid shirt. Jeans. They're Levi's. His feet are clad in Red Wing boots. Check, check, check. He'll do.

I stand up and make my way closer to the bar. I stand beside them, but they don't notice me. I wait patiently for the bartender to take my drink order. I look around, casually, noticing that my target has green eyes. Check. He smells good, freshly showered. He notices me looking at him and smiles at me. I smile back. Good choice Bella.

The bartender hands me my drink. I'm trying to think of a good opener, it's been a while since I've picked up a guy at a bar. I could just be direct. Something like, "I've been watching a lot of _Sex and the City_ lately. Want to go back to my place?"

Or rather, his place. Rose would kill me if she found out. I look down at my future one-night stand. He's messing around on his phone, scrolling through Grindr.

Okay, maybe not. I giggle to myself. That stupid _Sex and the City_ line probably would have worked, just not the way I had intended it to. This has got to be some kind of cruel joke. I moved to Chicago to get over a wolf, and the universe sends me a bear.

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN: Forgive me if you know this already, just to explain to those not up to date on gay culture. Grindr is a gay dating app, all my guy friends are on it these days. I refer to it as a "gay tracking device" which just about sums it up. Think of it as foursquare, for the boys.<em>**

**_A bear is large hairy gay man, they often sport beards and are fond of plaid. (If you need a visual, google the designers of Costello Tagliapietra) Skinny young bears are referred to as "otters", which omg! Isn't that adorable? _**


	16. Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

Life doesn't stop just because my world has fallen apart.

The sun rises over Lake Michigan. The train continues to make infinite loops through the city. Everything and everyone seems to be moving and I am forever frozen in my grief. Without my consent, without my knowledge or desire, my memories, past and future have been evenly split in two. Before Edward and after.

Rose and I sit at the kitchen table at our respective laptops every morning. I like our little routine. It gives me an excuse to not spend the day in bed moping. I work on my novel and Rose, well, I don't know what she does exactly. I just know her company is called _Nerd Coast_ and it has something to do with computers. I learn later from Emmett that my beautiful tattooed roommate is too modest to say that she is actually some kind of programming genius. And that she'd kick my ass if I called her Lisbeth.

Rosalie and Esme aren't on suicide watch anymore, which is a relief to all of us. I appreciate the support but it was getting to be a bit oppressive. I want to hug Rosalie for not asking too many questions. She naturally assumes the reason I've been so down this past week was because of the miscarriage. I'm ashamed to admit, I haven't thought of it as much as I should probably. I've been crying over losing Edward but not the baby. It feels too abstract, too removed from my real life to register. Or maybe I'm just repressing.

"Hey Angelina, ready for a coffee break?"

"What?"

"I heard that shit you pulled on poor Tyler. Real smooth B."

I smile sheepishly. "Guys love that stuff right?"

"They're all scared of you now. Except Mike, that freak. He practically begged Em for your number."

Which one was Mike? "Is he cute?" I don't really care. I need someone to distract me. Anyone will do. The other night at the bar was a bust, but I am ready now.

"Mike? He's...whatever. You are not going to rebound with Mike fucking Newton. Seriously, pick someone hotter."

"If you haven't noticed, I kind of suck at this."

"No shit." my roomate eyes me, her expression inscrutable. "Tyler really was the best one... He's got a good sense of humor. Let me talk to him and explain to him that you aren't completely nutso."

Rosalie doesn't say it, but I think she believes that I am getting over Edward. I'm not. Time doesn't heal all wounds, and it won't heal this one. You just bury the pain, under newer, fresher hurt, but it will always there waiting. I eat, I sleep, I work. I even smile sometimes. But I'm just going through the motions.

I know all the arguments why I shouldn't love him anymore but they are all moot. It's not like I could stop if I wanted to. I don't want to let him go. I want to keep Edward for myself forever, locked up in my heart, even if it's only his shadow.

* * *

><p><em>"How did you meet Jasper?"<em>

_Banner is surprised to see a small smile appear on the corner of his patient's mouth._

_"I saw a girl sitting alone at the bar. Pretty little thing, dark hair, almost black. She barely came up to my shoulder. She flirted with me, then ordered a whiskey and a beer and let me pay. A few minutes later a tall blond guy walked in and sat down next to her. She slid the beer over to him and introduced me to her boyfriend Jasper."_

_"The three of you lived together correct? _

_"Yes._

_"What was that like?"_

_"It...felt like a family. We were happy."_

_"What was it like living with a couple? Did you ever feel left out?"_

_He takes a long drag of his cigarette. "No," Edward replies, his eyes on the street below. _

_"Did you ever have feelings for Alice?"_

_Edward makes a face. "Fuck no. She was like a sister to me."_

_"I take it you're not living with them now."_

_"No."_

_"When was the last time you saw either of them?"_

_"A year ago."_

_"What happened?"_

_There is a long pause as Edward grinds out his cigarette. He places another in his mouth and lights it, taking a drag before answering Banner._

_"We had a fight. I kicked them out."_

_"What was the fight about?"_

_"It doesn't matter. They're gone."_

_Banner scribbles in his notebook. _

_"How did you find out Jasper was a werewolf?" Banner asks, not looking up from his notes._

_"I could just tell."_

_"How so?"_

_Edward looks down at his hands. "He...smelled different. I just knew."_

_"Was Jasper the first person you knew with your condition?"_

_"Yes. No. My mother. But she died giving birth to me. Carlisle said she was like me."_

_"I'm sorry to hear that Edward."_

_He just shrugs in reply._

_"Tell me what you and Jasper would do during the full moon."_

_"We'd start drinking around three or four in the afternoon. Alice would usually join us, but she would leave and make sure everything was locked up well before sundown. Jasper and I would do shots, sometimes we'd play stupid drinking games. Strip poker, quarters, or whatever. It didn't matter, whatever it took to get us fucked up. We'd drink until we passed out and we'd wake up and it would be over."_

_"You'd take your clothes off?"_

_Edward shrugs. "There was no point in keeping them on. They'd rip anyway."_

_"When you transformed into the wolf."_

_Edward looks at Banner, his eyes narrowing. "Yes."_

_Banner writes in his notebook. "Can you tell me what happens when you transform?"_

_He takes in a deep breath, considering his words. "It's the worst fucking pain imaginable. It's like all my bones are breaking and my skin is being torn off at the same time. My body begins to transform and then I black out. I wake up the next morning feeling like shit and hungover."_

_"So you are not conscious in wolf form? You don't remember being a wolf?"_

_"No."_

_"Never?"_

_"Never."_

_Very delicately, Banner asks, "How do you know then?"_

_Edward turns to look at his doctor, ugly realization dawning on his face._

_"Because I can see it with my own fucking eyes." _

* * *

><p>Charlie used to constantly ask me when I was moving back home. He never liked the big city and could never understand how I could bear the weather. As if Forks with it's two hundred days out of the year of pouring rain was any better. What people don't get is for four glorious months, Chicago is pretty amazing and it makes enduring the harsh endless winter worth it. In the summer, I never get over the surreal sight of palm trees and skyscrapers right in the middle of downtown.<p>

It is one of those rare early spring days today. Everyone has shed their heavy winter jackets and is in a good mood, even me surprisingly. And though it is maybe forty-five degrees max, there are frat boys walking around in cargo shorts and flip flops. It is the surest sign that spring is coming. They are more reliable than the groundhog.

I ride the green line and get off at Clinton. I step off and am immediately assaulted by the scent of chocolate. That's another thing nobody tells you. The west side of the city smells like baking brownies, all courtesy of Blommer's chocolate factory. Charlie would have loved Chicago if he could have made it this far east, I'm sure of it.

I wonder if Edward liked Chicago. Sometimes when I am feeling self-indulgent, I imagine showing him my favorite haunts. Like the Ethiopian cafe by my apartment that serves tiny cups of the deepest darkest coffee you ever had. Or my favorite restaurant, which is not really a restaurant at all, but rather the tamale guy who always magically appears just as you've downed your second drink at the bar and start to feel peckish. Five dollars buys you a perfect package of homemade tamales, fragrant and savory and delicious.

But then again, maybe he hates Chicago. He did leave after all. There are no mountains here, only tall buildings and too many people. No place for Edward to hide.

It is a beautiful day. A day when anything could happen. Nothing can keep me down, not even the unpleasant ordeal that I am about to go under. I even have a date tomorrow night. I will never get over Edward, but I can't continue living this half life. I'm not sure of anything these days, but I'm glad I decided to come back to Chicago. I feel like I'm supposed to be here.

They scheduled me for a follow-up, just to make sure everything is okay down there. Even though Carlisle treated me, I'm glad he's not doing the examination. I know he's a good doctor and is supposed to be dispassionate, but it would just be too weird. I can barely look him in the eye as it is.

Carlisle says the right things, all the things you are supposed to say when someone has miscarried. But I sense that he is secretly relieved. He is wary of me. I don't blame him. He doesn't know if I know the truth about Edward. All Carlisle knows about me is that I'm an unknown variable and possibly a threat to his son's existence.

I never told them outright, but I think Esme and Carlisle both know that it was Edward's baby. It's a big hulking presence in the room, this open secret. Esme's too discreet to ask, but my face gives me away.

She is careful to not mention his name in my presence now, afraid it will upset me. I wish she would talk about him. I wish I could find to a way to sufficiently express how grateful I am for her kindness. She has been a better mother to me than my own ever was. I've shed my last tears. But Esme is glassy eyed every time I see her, and I realize I am not the only one who lost someone.

My doctor is young, fresh out of med school. She is efficient and chipper and makes what could be a really terrible uncomfortable situation as pleasant as it could possibly be. She pronounces me healthy. There is nothing wrong with me.

* * *

><p><em>He'd been staring in at the back of his patient's head for the past hour. Finally fed up with the silence, Banner walks over to the window. His phalaenopsis held on for as long as it could, but it has finally succumbed to death. He's surprised it has lasted this long after enduring three weeks of abuse from his most taciturn patient. From his customary perch on the window ledge, Edward keeps his eyes constantly searching the city streets below.<em>

_"What are you looking for Edward?" _

_"Nothing," is the automatic reply. Edward raises his gaze back to the lake. _

_"It's beautiful isn't it?" Banner asks. "They offered me a bigger office, but I kept this one because of the view. I never get tired of looking at the lake. Nothing beats it."_

_"I know. I grew up here." Edward says quietly._


	17. Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

_There is nothing wrong with me._

I change from the paper gown back to my clothes. I accept the small plastic container that looks like a clamshell. My first month of birth control. Somehow I say all the right pleasantries, act as if this complete stranger didn't just examine the most private parts of my body. I walk out of the examination room and pay my bill at the front desk. Taylor Swift is playing softly in the background. A rosy cheeked woman in pink scrubs with butterflies printed all over them gives me back my card and hands me a receipt. These employees must all be trained to speak in the same even, dulcet tones. The polite atmosphere is suffocating.

I am disoriented as I walk back to the elevator bank. I press the down button and wait. Hospitals don't smell like hospitals anymore. I think it is meant to be reassuring, an illusion to make you forget the reason you are there. They are decorated in soothing colors, the same uncontroversial artwork hanging on the walls that you might see at a bank or in a hotel room. I'm breathing in the same stale air that I would in any office building. I could be anywhere right now.

Another woman has joined me. I recognize her from the waiting room. I wonder if she can tell the reason I came here, if it is somehow written on my face, on my body. We step into the elevator, both turning to face the doors, not looking at one another.

Something about the air, the smell of plastic, the woman's cloying perfume in an enclosed space is making me sick. A wave of nausea hits me but the doors slide closed and it is too late for me to run out again. We are on the eighth floor. I don't know if I will make it. I desperately press the open button and the elevator stops at four. I bolt out, running the hallways until I find a women's restroom. I make it just in time to throw up into a toilet stall. I retch until I've completely emptied the contents of my stomach.

With shaky legs, I walk to the sink and rinse my mouth. At least I know for a fact that it is not morning sickness. I splash my face with water. It doesn't make me feel any better. I look like shit. I even put on make-up this morning, but now my mascara is running down my face. I'm supposed to be new Bella. Moving on. Dating. Sleeping with nice guys. Not getting hurt.

I am always starting over. I never learn. I ran from my ex, straight into the arms of another man. I ran all the way to the other side of the country, up a remote mountain top, and yet I still managed to find the lone inhabitant and attach myself to him. He warned me that he could never be mine and I ignored him. I had so many chances to run away, and yet, I stayed anyway to get my heart broken all over again. It feels so impossible. I can run as long as I want to, but I can't seem to escape myself. I can change my clothes, put on make-up, plaster a smile on my face. But underneath it all I am still the same person. Hopelessly doomed to repeat the same actions on an endless loop. I don't know what to do with myself now. I can't trust my own judgement. I've been betrayed by myself too many times before. I wipe off the smudged mascara off my face and try to make myself look presentable.

I step back out but I have no idea how to get back to the elevators. I turn down a hallway that looks vaguely familiar, the sound of my boots echoing loudly down the deserted corridor. It's odd, I think I detect the faint smell of cigarette smoke. But this is a hospital. What kind of asshole smokes cigarettes in a hospital?

I blindly turn down another hallway and come to a full stop.

I must be hallucinating.

That must be it. It's the only rational explanation for what my eyes are seeing. The person who is standing only a few feet away from me. This is an image that my sick mind has conjured up, this is not real. it can't be. He will turn toward me and the delusion will disappear. His face will be wrong. He will look up at me and the man will have the wrong colored eyes.

He hasn't seen me yet. I don't know what I'm more terrified of, finding out that it is really him or only a stranger who looks like him. I take a step closer, my heart pounding loudly in my chest.  
>All the ambient noise of the hospital has faded away. All I can hear is my quickening breath, the electric hum of the fluorescent lights above us.<p>

Another step.

My footfalls sound impossibly loud on the tiled floor. I study the figure in front of me. The long lean lines of his body. That strong jawline, elegant fingers wrapped around a lit cigarette. That familiar profile that I never thought I'd see again.

He doesn't say anthing, but in an instant I know he is aware of my presence. There is a tension in the way he holds his shoulders that was not there a minute ago. There is a pronounced tremor in his hand as he raises it to his lips and then falters. I watch as the cigarette slips throuh his fingers, tumbling from his grasp to the floor. My body is a live wire, buzzing with energy, unable to contain the hot white heat of emotions coursing through my veins. I feel lightheaded, spinning, delirious. I don't know whether to scream or laugh or break down weeping. He's here. Edward is here.

I'm so close now I could reach my arm out and touch him. I am too afraid to look at his face yet. I can't know what expression I'd find there and I don't think my fragile heart could take it right now. So I stare at his hand, watch the fingers curl up into a tight clenched fist. He slowly turns his body, until I am facing his chest. I do not dare lift my eyes.

Oh God, he smells the same. I missed his scent. His fingers unfurl, hesitate in mid air. He is breathing as heavily as I am. His hands are trembling. Tentatively, he lifts his hand to stroke my cheek. His touch is so delicate, I'm not sure I didn't imagine it. I close my eyes and just let myself feel, his calloused fingertips, gentle on my smooth cheek. He reaches out with the other hand, cradling my face and lifting my chin.

I close my eyes. This is perfect. This moment, right here, right now. I don't ever want it to end. He's real. He's here, touching me.

"Bella?"

I never thought I'd hear him say my name again. He's still too far away. I step forward and close the distance between us, clinging to him desperately. I inhale his scent, feel the rise and fall of his chest. He is breathing as heavily as I am. He takes me in his arms and holds me so tightly it is difficult to breathe, but it will never be close enough for me. I want to hold him inside my heart, keep him with me forever. I never want to say goodbye ever again.

I don't want to let go, but the desire to look upon his face again is overwhelming and reluctantly I loosen my grasp. He is still beautiful, more beautiful than I remember, but these last two months have not been kind to him. He's lost a lot of weight. He feels slight in my arms, like a shell of his former self. I trace a new scar on his cheekbone. He's shaved off most of his hair.

He hasn't let go of me. Edward looks at me like a man dying of thirst, drinking in every single part of my face. I can't stop looking at him either. I'm afraid if I close my eyes he will disappear again.

"You're here," I whisper.

I've been holding on to an image in my mind, a blurry watercolor, inchoate and unsatisfying. Now he is standing before me in full vibrant color and it is overwhelming. I have a million thoughts running through my brain. I'm having a hard time wrapping my mind around the fact that he is in the same fluorescent lit hallway as me, that I am touching him. How did he get here? Why is he here? Why now? Did Esme send him to me? I don't know what to make of the expression in his green eyes, the change in his physical appearance. He looks as fragile as a newly shorn lamb.

"How long have you been here Edward?"

"Three weeks."

Three weeks. He has been in Chicago three weeks. Long enough to have heard what happened. He's been so close this entire time and he didn't try to see me until today. It stings a little, but I push the hurt aside.

"Does Carlisle know you're in Chicago?" I ask.

Edward shakes his head. Esme and Carlisle didn't tell him. He doesn't know. I feel relief almost. I can't tell him, not right now. Not like this. He strokes my cheek with his thumb, so tenderly.

He searches my face, looking for answers. "Are you okay Bella?"

No. Yes. I don't know. I don't know what to tell him. The absurdly optimistic part of me wants to believe that everything is right in the world now. I will get my happily ever after. Edward has come back for me. I get to keep him. He's holding me like I'm a precious object he's afraid he'll drop. I had forgotten how intoxicating it felt to have his heavy gaze upon me. His lips are so close, I could just lift up on my toes and kiss them.

I nod my head yes. I want to believe it is true.

If he's not here for me, and Esme and Carlisle don't know he is in Chicago, why is Edward here?

"Edward, why are you here?"

His face clouds over as he formulates his answer. He takes a deep breath and drops his eyes to the floor.

He speaks so quietly I almost don't hear him. "I came here to get treated, for my...condition."

"Condition? Are you sick?"

He finally looks back up at me, a sad rueful smile on his lips. "Yes. You could say that."

I wait for him to elaborate further, but no answer is forthcoming. I don't understand what he talking about. The only "condition" that I can think about is his being a werewolf, and there can't be a cure for that. It's impossible. I've known Edward long enough that I know he could keep me waiting forever, unless I press him further.

"I don't understand. What condition?"

Before he can answer me, we are interrupted by a nurse with curly hair dressed in sea foam green scrubs and a large male orderly. He steps away from me. She strides toward us quickly, eyes darting between me and Edward.

"Edward! There you are. I've been looking all over for you." She chides him, not unkindly. She speaks in a sing-songy, lightly accented English. She sounds exactly like my childhood friend's Filipina mom. "You bad bad boy, you know you're not allowed to smoke."

"It was my last one."

"Shame on you Edward. Who is your friend?"

"This is Bella."

She lights up with recognition, smiling at me warmly. "Oh, you're the Bella I've heard so much about. She's even prettier than you told me Edward. I'm Angela," she says extending her hand.

"Hello," I say, shaking her hand. I'm too confused to say anything more coherent.

She looks down at her wristwatch. "Visiting hours are over but you can come back tomorrow Bella. I'm sure Edward will be happy to see you again."

I nod my head. I look at Edward, but he is quiet.

"Come on Edward, Dr. Banner is ready to see you. Bye Bella, it was nice to meet you."

I mumble a reply. Edward takes my hand, giving it one last squeeze. "You'll come back?" He looks wary, unsure of my response.

As if I ever had a choice. I nod mutely.

"I checked myself in under the name Edward Masen."

A few moments later, the nurse slides her key card and Edward looks back at me one last time before he steps through the door and it clicks shut behind him. He's gone again.


	18. Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

The world looks different. It has changed somehow since I walked through those hospital doors. I'm in no hurry to get home, so I take the long way. My train is loud and tightly packed with the rush hour crowd. The El winds through the west loop at a snail's pace. I could probably jog faster but I don't care. The crush of too many bodies in too small a space, the smell, the uncomfortably muggy temperature, none of it can touch me today.

For the first time in weeks, I have a goofy smile plastered on my face that I cannot suppress. As the sun sets, the sleek glass high-rises and beaux arts style buildings are all awash in the soft pink orange glow of dusk. Somebody has scratched _O + S 4EVS_ into the manila plastic of the window ledge. I always find the crudeness, the simplicity of these epic teenage declarations oddly affecting. To be forever immortalized for all the world to see, or at least until the city of Chicago replaces it. I wonder who they were, if they are still together. If their love lasted much longer after she wrote it.

I cannot believe he is here. Edward is here, in Chicago. He's been so close almost the whole time, only a few miles away from me.

And he wants to see me again.

For the second time today, I have to pinch myself to make sure I am not dreaming. But it's real. He asked me to come back. He held me in his arms. The part that I replay over and over in my head was the way Edward looked at me today. That look in his eyes that I never could get enough of, that I never thought I'd see again.

Rosalie's car is gone, but our unofficial third roommate is sprawled on the couch watching a Bulls game when I walk through the door. He spots me and pats the empty space beside him on the sofa. I look longingly at my bedroom door. All I want to do is hole up in my room and obsess about this afternoon's events over and over in my head. I probably won't sleep either, too excited about tomorrow. Spending the next few hours parsing every sentence, every gesture sounds heavenly.

Emmett senses my hesitation. He lifts the pizza box lid, waving it enticingly in front of me, waggling his eyebrows. I can't help but crack a smile and reluctantly plop down on the couch next to him. I accept the offered slice and a beer. It's delicious. He grins back at me and returns his eyes to the game.

"Where's your lady friend?"

"At her ma's. She should be back in a couple hours."

We eat in silence, watching the game. Every so often, Emmett will punctuate each bite by yelling obscenities at the TV. It's kind of exhausting, he looks miserable and I can't even tell if he's having a good time or not. I wonder if the two of them would get along. I try to imagine Edward here, sitting on Rose's couch watching the game with Emmett and me, drinking Old Style. The image is dangerously appealing, and as of a few hours ago, entirely possible. Except for the Old Style part, I'm pretty sure Edward wouldn't drink shitty beer. I think I am being pretty discreet but Emmett misses nothing, even if his eyes are transfixed on the television.

"What are you smiling about?"

"Nothing. I'm just in a good mood." My smile widens, I can't keep it in.

"Care to elaborate?"

I'm not sure the reason for my reticence. I'm not quite ready to talk about Edward yet, I want to keep his reappearance to myself, savor this secret a little while longer. I shake my head. "No reason, It was just a good day, that's all."

"What did you do today? Write any more vampire smut?"

I shove him lightly on the shoulder. "Fuck off Emmett, it's not 'smut'."

"Yeah, tell me about it. Seriously girl, five hundred pages and they never even get past first base?"

"It's Young Adult!"

"Exactly!"

"What? You think I should be educating the youth of America on the art of love making?"

"Fuck no. That's what the internet is for."

"I never should have let you read it."

"FOUL! Flagrant foul! Fuck you Jeff Foster!" He roars at the TV. Jeff Foster is unperturbed. "All I know is, there better be some sex in the sequel."

"Sorry Em, no sex in the sequel either."

"Damn girl. Way to cockblock."

"Yup. Nor the third. They aren't gonna do it till the fourth book. And then she gets knocked up on the first try. Moral of the story, stay in school, don't do drugs, don't have sex."

"I think I'll stick to my internet porn, thanks. To free smut!" He raises his beer to me and we clink cans. "So what else did you do B, besides shaping the morals of today's youth?"

"I went to the hospital."

His expression sobers. He turns to me immediately, quickly looking me over. "You okay?"

"I'm fine. Everything's good now." I smile.

* * *

><p>This is the hardest decision I have ever had to make. It feels as if the events of my life have been leading up this moment and my entire future rests on this decision. What the hell am I going to wear? I've changed my outfit, literally dozens of times. What is the appropriate thing to wear to a date, which isn't even a date, at the hospital with your sort of ex who happens to be a werewolf? I know it's stupid, Edward doesn't care what I wear. I think he prefers me sans clothing. But that isn't really an option.<p>

Rose has noticed my frequent trips to full-length mirror in the bathroom and comes over to investigate. It's early, so she's still in her yoga clothes, her blond hair piled in a messy bun atop her head.

She wolf whistles appraisingly. "You look hot B."

"Yeah? You sure I don't look like I'm trying too hard? Am I giving off a desperate vibe?" Because I am, all of the above.

"No girl, you look like a total babe."

"Thanks."

"Tyler's going to be all over you tonight."

Crap. I completely forgot about Tyler. And the date that I roped Rosalie into setting up when I was hell bent on getting laid. My face betrays me once again.

She raises a perfectly arched eyebrow. "This isn't for Tyler, is it?"

I shake my head no.

"You got another hot date you're not telling me about?"

"Kinda, sort of...yeah," I reply sheepishly.

Rosalie grins widely, giving me a playful shove. "Who's the dude? Do I get to meet him?"

"Just...someone that I used to know. He's in town unexpectedly, so we're going to hang out."

"Where are you going?"

"Somewhere near the place he's staying at. We're keeping it pretty low key." Yes, low key as in, the hospital cafeteria probably, where we will dine on lime green jello cubes and chocolate pudding. This will be followed by a makeout session on his adjustable hospital bed if I'm lucky. Which, if I'm being honest with myself, sounds pretty hot. I flush a little at the thought. God, it's been too long.

"When do I get to meet your mystery dude?"

"I don't know how long he's in town for so..."

"Oh come on, he doesn't have time to get a drink with me and Em?"

I don't know. The idea of a double date with Rose and Em sounds laughable right now. I'm sure Emmett would get along fine with Edward. He can be pleasant with anyone, even if he doesn't like you. Rosalie on the other hand has never even met him and she already loathes him. Obviously, I couldn't tell her the truth. I only gave her the roughest outline, but it was enough to spark her fury. Her fierce loyalty has got to be one of her most endearing qualities, but I don't really want the full strength of Rosalie Hale's ire directed at Edward.

"You embarrassed of him or something? Does he have some horrible deformity you don't want us to see?"

"Seriously Rose?"

"I'm kidding. I don't judge. I promise I'll keep an open mind with whoever you decide to bring home. I'll be a saint, I swear."

Somehow, I find this hard to believe.

* * *

><p>Hospital visiting hours are ten to six. I probably would have camped out overnight if that had been an option. I didn't sleep at all last night and then I drank too much coffee this morning. My hands are shaking, I'm not sure if it's from the caffeine or nerves. I'm sure I look a bit manic, crazed. No amount of concealer will hide the dark shadows under my eyes. He's going to take one look at my face and bolt.<p>

I ride the elevator to the fourth floor. I'm no stranger to loneliness, it is something that I've lived with all my life. Charlie loved me, I always knew that, but we were like strangers living in the same house. I didn't blame him. He always did the best that he could. I clung to my ex, for six long years. I was young and naive, foolishly mistaking dependency and familiarity for love.

I was fine until I met Edward. After I left him, I thought I could live with my loneliness. I'd done it before. What almost broke me wasn't the goodbye at the bus station. I still clung to the slightest hope then. Not even the miscarriage. Although it was emotionally devastating, I didn't want a baby. I don't even know what I'd do with a baby, and now I'm not sure I even want kids.

It was my doctor, declaring me well, that brought the reality of my situation crashing down upon my head. She had the best intentions but she was wrong. I was not well. Don't tell me I am whole when I know for a fact that I am a shell of a person and that is all I'll ever be. There was a deep chasm in my heart, an emptiness that could never be filled. All those plans I had made, they were just lies I told myself. I could see my future stretched before me, a bleak landscape that went on for miles and miles, desolate and hopeless. I was hopeless. I made myself physically sick.

And then by some miracle, he was there.

I tell the guy in the reception area my name and that I'm here to see Edward Masen. I'm filling out the sign in sheet when the nurse from yesterday walks in and spots me.

"Bella! Good to see you again."

"Hi. Angela, right?"

"Yes. Edward's going to be thrilled to see you. Let me just call his room and let him know that you're here.

Angela smiles warmly at me, dropping her bag on the desk. "I'm clocked in Ben, you can go now," she tells the other guy. I can spy a dog eared copy of a very familiar book peeking out of the top of her tote. She hangs up the phone and tells me he'll be out in a minute.

I can't resist asking, "Good book?"

She grins, a mischievious glint in her eyes. "Guilty pleasure. You know it?"

"A little."

"I can't tell you how many times I've reread it. I'm obsessed! I cannot wait for the sequel!" she gushes.

I have to bite my tongue, to stop myself from telling her to not hold her breath. I look up and I see that face through the window and my breath catches in my throat. Angela grins and walks over the door, sliding her card key. The door opens and Edward is here.

He never breaks my gaze, walking toward me quickly and then stopping just shy of me.

"Hi." My voice is barely above a whisper.

My heart sinks. I want to embrace him. I want to kiss him. But be seems suddenly, uncharacteristically shy.

Angela is standing there, a witness to our tentative exchange. "Edward! What is wrong with you? This is Bella! The girl you've been going on and on to me about for weeks now!" She grabs my hand a places it in Edward's. He looks down at our hands, weaving his fingers through mine, squeezing lightly.

"Go on, take your girl out." she looks down at her watch. "Just make sure you're back in time for your session. I don't want to have to go searching everywhere for you again." We aren't moving quickly enough for her so Angela pushes Edward and me toward the exit.

I almost expect him to let go of my hand, but he doesn't. He holds on to me tightly, as we walk past reception, past the blocked off area where they are remodeling, to the south elevator bank on the far side of the fourth floor. He holds on to my hand as we ride the elevator down, through the rotating doors, out onto the city street. We walk in silence, it is not until we are several blocks away does he stop abruptly.

I clutch his hand, afraid that if I let go he will float away. He turns toward me, pulling me into a close embrace. I close my eyes and just feel, his pulse beating as fast as my own. In darkness, the world disappears and we are the only two people left on Earth. I bury my face into his chest, breathe in the scent that I could never forget no matter how hard I tried. There are no trees here, and yet he smells of the woods, rain and smoke and cold grey mist. I squeeze him as tightly as I can, his ribs more prominent through his flannel shirt than I was accustomed to. I try to shake the feeling that something is not right with Edward.

"What did they do to you?" I whisper.

He kisses the top of my head. Soft lips on my forehead, my eyelids, his eyelashes and warm breath on my cheek. He is gentle, almost afraid to touch me, as if I was made if porcelain. It is everything and not enough all at once.

"I'll tell you everything."

He leads me to a small Algerian café not too far away. A beautiful ornate jewelbox, right in the middle of the grey concrete of downtown. We sit in a dark corner, side by side still holding hands. I can't stop looking at him. There's a warm glow in my chest, threatening to spread to my whole body. I can't suppress the smile on my lips.

His eyes sweep over my body. "When's the last time you ate Bella?"

"Last night."

"You should eat."

I could say the same to him. Edward has always been lean, but he looks like he's lost at least fifteen pounds since I saw him. Maybe more. His beautiful jawline that I used to have dreams about is so defined now it looks like it could cut glass. I couldn't care less about food but I order something to placate him. I offer him a bite of my crêpe but he just shakes his head.

I wait for him to speak, but Edward just watches me eat as he sips an espresso, stroking my free hand. I don't mind the silence. I was surprised at how much I had missed his stillness. I am a raw mess of nerves and emotions, a million thoughts rattling through my brain and Edward Cullen makes me feel secure, anchored to the ground.

"How did you find me?"

"It was an accident." This is a lie. I'm almost certain it was fate. I'd run through yesterday over and over in my head. There were so many chances for us to have missed each other. A wrong turn, if I had pressed that button a second later I would have ended up on a different floor. It was no accident. I was supposed to find Edward again. I hope he can forgive me for the second lie I am about to make. "I was here for a check up. Just got lost, I guess."

I don't want to tell him about the pregnancy, it would only upset him. I don't want to talk about all those sleepless nights, the days I would forget to eat, all those wasted hours spent looking for his face in the crowd. I want to forget the past because none of it matters. All that matters is that he is with me now.

"You shaved your head."

He shrugs. I run my fingers through his short buzzed hair. "I miss your hair."

"I'll grow it back."

I trace the scar on his cheek. It runs from beneath his right eye almost to his ear. "Where did this come from?"

"Don't remember. It doesn't matter." He takes my hand and kisses my finger tips.

"I missed you." I cup his face in my hand. It feels so right and wrong at the same time. "What are you doing here? What are they doing to you?"

"It's the meds. They make me nauseous, I can't keep anything down."

"Meds? What meds Edward? What are they treating you for?"

He looks down, taking my other hand in his and tracing circles with his thumb. "Banner says he can cure me."

"Cure you?"

He raises his eyes to mine. "I won't turn into a wolf anymore Bella. I'll be normal."

This revelation is almost as unfathomable to me as finding out he was a werewolf in the first place. If I hadn't seen Edward transform before my very eyes I would never believed him. Edward is searching my face, waiting for a response. "I don't understand...how, how can he...?"

"Jasper found him. They'd been writing to each other for a while, I guess a little after Alice got pregnant. He wanted to find out if there was a way for the baby to be normal. Banner came back after you left and showed me the letters. He's done it before, cured people like us, that's how Jasper found him."

I want to believe it, I really do. My mind has already made several leaps. Edward cured. He could have a normal life. No more secrets. No more isolation. We could be together. But my gut is telling me it's too good to be true. It's too perfect. The biggest evidence to the contrary is the man sitting before me. He is not well. Whatever this treatment is supposed to do, it's killing him.

"Have you talked to your father?"

His face darkens. "Carlisle can't do shit for me."

Edward has such a desperate need to believe that this doctor could cure him, I can't crush his hopes just yet. "I'm worried about you."

He leans forward, pressing his forehead against mine. "I'm fine. The side affects will pass. My body is changing, I can feel it. I'll get used to it."

"You don't have to do this," I plead.

"I do. I want to. I want to be better, for you Bella. I...I want to be good enough for you," he says so quietly, It's almost a whisper.

Oh Edward. Edward. The worst part is that he absolutely believes it. "Edward, you are good. You're perfect, you're all I want."

He shakes his head emphatically. "No Bella. You deserve better than me."

Before I can protest further, he silences me with a kiss. The world slips away and all my thoughts and feelings and worries evaporate in the air. We are cloaked in silence, shadows and dusk. Nothing exists outside of Edward Cullen, the taste of his lips, honey and mint and velvet.

I don't need to breathe anymore. I don't want to come up for oxygen, but eventually he breaks away from me. He looks down at my face and smiles for the first time in forever. "Beautiful girl. I missed you," he says reverently stroking my cheek.

"I have to go back," he says a few moments later. It's too soon, it's not enough time. I feel like I just got him back from the dead and he's being stolen away from me. He kisses me again softly. "I'm sorry Bella."

He rises to leave and I walk him back. He keeps his arm wrapped around my shoulders, my body tucked into his side.

"They let you leave?"

"Yeah. I checked myself in. As far as the hospital knows, Banner's treating me for alcohol addiction." I raise my eyebrows at this and he grins crookedly. "I usually don't leave though, I don't want to risk running into Carlisle."

"Are you sure you don't want to talk to your dad about this?"

The grin disappears. "You can't tell Carlisle. I lived with him for seventeen years and he never even fucking tried to fix me. He just drugged me locked me in the basement and spent the rest of the time black out drunk. I don't need his fucking help."

"Okay...I promise I won't tell him."

Far too quickly, we are back on the fourth floor of the hospital. I desperately want to tell him to not go, to come home with me. Live with me in my apartment. Rosalie can deal with it, I don't care. We could drink coffee and watch the sunrise over Lake Michigan from my balcony. I want to tell him that I don't care that he's a werewolf.

I don't say anything because I know it is no use. Edward won't hear it. He doesn't want to. I hug him goodbye. I hold him as long as I can and promise to come back the next day. And the next. And the next. However long it takes for him to realize that I love him anyway.


	19. Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

_Tyler, Sorry have 2 cancel date 2nite. Werewolf babydaddy in town, staying in psych ward. Wants 2 try 2 make it work! Hope U understand. :) -Bella_

No. That doesn't sound quite right. I delete the text before I can accidentally hit send.

I stare at my phone, completely at a loss. I feel a twinge of guilt for cancelling on Tyler, but there's no way I'm going on a date tonight. I would spend the entire time discussing my bad news ex whom I am clearly still in love with. In someone else's life, this would be the disastrous first date in a delightful romantic comedy and the male lead would somehow find my word vomit charming. But my life is not a romcom and I don't want to traumatize the boy further.

I wonder who would play Edward in the movie version of my life and decide on Fassbender. Fassbender with a beard and a cigarette dangling from his mouth. Definitely. Rosalie comes in the door with Emmett in tow, hauling a box of vegetables in his arms.

"The cute boy at the hippie co-op talked me into signing up for a CSA box. I hope you like ramps."

"Yum? What else did you get?"

"A few sad looking root vegetables...and ramps."

"What am I supposed to do with all of this?"

I bet Edward would know. I should ask him tomorrow. Maybe he could come here and cook those ramps in my tiny kitchen. I can picture him in here, making me something indescribably delicious to eat. He would probably sneer at the regular iodized salt in my pantry and my hodge podge collection of cookware. I can't tell the difference, but I suppose with his werewolf senses he can pick up on the subtle nuances. That, or he's just a snob. I should stop by Trader Joe's and pick up some sea salt today.

Rosalie shrugs. "Look dude, all I know is that hippies and yuppies alike go apeshit over ramps every spring. What are you doing looking at your phone so intently? You sexting B?" she asks with an amused quirk of her eyebrow.

"Yes. That's exactly what I'm doing Rosalie. I'm sexting."

"Oh yeah? Who's the lucky sextee?"

"My dentist."

Without missing a beat, Emmett places the box on the kitchen table and turns to Rosalie. "Open up Miss Swan," he says in a lascivious tone. "I see you have a few cavities that need to be filled! Big ones!" He makes obscene hand gestures towards her mouth and Rose pretends to gag with enthusiasm.

I throw a ramp at them. I decide that in the film version of my life, Emmett will be played by Chris Farley.

"Gross. Why aren't you at work Emmett?"

"I'm a stay-at-home boyfriend."

"Shouldn't you be at home then?"

"Touché." He looks at the clock on the stove. "Actually babe, I should get going. I promised I'd help Newton move back into his Mom's basement." He pecks Rosalie on the cheek. "Later Swan. Say hi to Tyler for me."

"Will do. Bye Em."

Crap. I was momentarily distracted, but the blank screen of my phone is taunting me. What to do about Tyler? Rose sinks down at the kitchen table. She scrutinizes me, an amused smile on her red-painted lips. I squirm under her penetrating gaze.

"What?"

"Okay, spill."

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't act coy! Your date this morning! Tell me all about it! Did you guys bang?"

"No Rosalie, we did not 'bang'. And please don't call it that."

"What do you want me to say? Did he sheath his glorious manhood in your precious ladyflower?"

"No there was no 'sheathing', no 'glorious manhood'."

She leans toward me and whispers conspiratorially, "Little guy? That's okay you know, there are ways around that."

"Rose! It's not small okay!"

She leans back in her chair and smirks at me. Sneaky bitch. My face flushes beet red. I can't believe I just basically confirmed how..._glorious_ Edward's manhood is.

"Okay, so what's the problem?"

"I just...don't call it 'banging'. It sounds so crass. It's not like that."

"Sorry B." I don't believe her. Rosalie is not sorry. "So...this guy, you're serious about him?"

I can tell there's no way I'm going to extricate myself from this conversation. Part of me wants to confess everything to Rosalie. I'm so confused about what I should do and I desperately want to talk to someone about this. I think I can predict Rosalie's reaction though, and I don't know if I can handle that. She's watching my face, waiting for a response. Reluctantly, I nod, keeping my eyes glued to my phone.

"What's his name?"

Before I over think it and talk myself out of telling her, I say in a quiet voice, "Edward."

I brace myself for the snarky comment but it never comes. She says nothing. I lift my eyes and my am surprised to find for once my roommate is speechless. I don't like what I see in her blue eyes though. Instead of the disapproving glare that I expect, she looks sad for me. I don't need to stay around for this. I push my chair away from the table and stand to leave. I don't want her pity. That's the last thing I need right now.

I close my bedroom door. I am alone for barely five minutes before Rosalie knocks softly and enters without waiting for my response. She closes the door behind her and for the first time notices Edward's shirt hanging on a hook.

"Don't." I warn.

She raises both her hands in front of her. "I didn't say anything."

"You thought it. I can tell."

This elicits a smile from her and diffuses the tension somewhat.

"You want to talk B? I won't judge, I swear."

"I don't believe you."

She raises her right hand solemnly. "I Rosalie Hale, do solemnly swear to keep my goddamn mouth shut. Unless you ask me not to. Come on girl, you must be dying to talk to somebody about this."

My desire to confess everything overwhelms my trepidation. I know Rosalie won't be able to keep quiet, despite her promises to the contrary. I study her face. She's rearranged it into some semblance of contrition, but it just looks unnatural.

"Stop making that face. It hurts to look at you."

Rosalie relaxes visibly. She scoots up to the head of the bed to sit by me. "How long has he been in Chicago."

"Three weeks. Maybe more."

"Did you know...?"

"No. Not until two days ago. After my doctor's appointment."

I can tell the next question she wants to ask, but is too delicate to blurt out. I must give Rosalie credit for her restraint. I decide to just save her the awkwardness and just say it. "He doesn't know. Esme and Carlisle don't know he's here. I didn't tell him. It's...not a good time yet."

I am faintly amused as I watch Rosalie struggle to keep her face neutral. My roommate has never been one to beat around the bush. After some time, she asks, "How'd you run into him? What's he doing here?"

Now here comes the difficult part. I can't tell her the truth about Edward. She would think I had completely lost it and I'd probably be in the psych ward by the end of the day. Edward and I could be roommates.

"I bumped into him at the hospital."

"What was he doing there?"

I scramble to think up a lie but my mind is a blank. I settle for a partial truth. "He's getting treatment."

"Treatment? For what?"

"Alcohol addiction?"

I cringe slightly. This doesn't sound good. But neither does 'werewolf rehab'. Rosalie won't be able to contain herself after this revelation, I'm sure of it. I meet her gaze, almost daring her to say something.

She struggles to control her facial expressions. "You never told me he was an alcoholic," she says finally.

"No. He isn't an alcoholic. I mean, he drinks a lot, but...I lived with him for two months and I don't think he has a substance abuse problem."

"What the fuck? That doesn't make any sense."

"I know. I don't know how to explain this. Edward... has a lot issues. He had a lot of traumatic things happen to him, in the past and quite recently. And he thinks the alcohol is the problem. But it isn't. He thinks...if he can cure himself, he can finally move on."

Rosalie bites her lip as if to keep herself from speaking her mind. It's killing her, I can just tell. After taking a deep, shuddering breath, she says to me in a neutral tone, "And how does that make you feel Bella?"

I raise an eyebrow. "Are you my therapist now?"

"Dude! I'm trying my hardest not to tell you to stay the fuck away from him! This not-being-a-loudmouth thing isn't easy for me!"

"I know. I know you're just trying to help. Okay, fine. Let me have it."

"You sure? This isn't a kill the messenger entrapment scheme?"

I roll my eyes. And then I brace myself to hear the truth.

"You know it sounds bad right?" she asks.

I nod. Yes, I know this situation sounds terrible on paper. But this is different. This is Edward.

"So you know what I'm going to say B. From what little you've told me, I gather that he's emotionally unavailable, he's got anger problems, and now I find out he's an alcoholic?"

"He's not an alcoholic," I mumble. She ignores me.

"On top of that, I mean, has he even called you his girlfriend? Has he told you he loves you? Has he even told you he cares about you?"

I open my mouth to speak but no sound comes out. No. He never said those things to me. He never had to. I always knew in my heart how he felt about me. Those words he never spoke were in every lingering gaze, every touch. It was the reason he tried to push me away to protect me. It's the reason he's letting that damned doctor slowly kill him.

I look at Rosalie and her eyes are damp. No. This isn't how it's supposed to be. She should be happy for me. Why can't she see how happy I am?

"You know I care about you."

I nod. But she is so so wrong about Edward.

"I just don't want you to get hurt again by this guy. Look, I did some digging. He's not...something is up with this dude. He's hiding something."

"I was awake you know, in the hospital. I overheard you and Emmett."

She looks a bit sheepish. "Sorry B, I didn't mean to pry. I just thought you might want to be around family."

"It's okay. I get why you did it. Rose, Edward is not some shady character. You don't know the full story."

"I can find information about anyone. Seriously. Most people have loads of personal information just floating around if you know where to look. And I can hack into pretty much anywhere I want..." Her voice trails off at the end. "This dude disappeared off the face of the Earth once he turned eighteen. That is not normal."

I want to laugh. Rosalie has no idea how not normal Edward is. Instead I focus in on that first bit of information that she unintentionally revealed. It explains how she found out about Charlie and my great aunt. "You can look up anyone?"

She eyes me suspiciously. "Yes. Who do you want me to look up?"

If Rosalie can do what she claims she can do, then I may be 'outing' Edward without his consent. Can I trust her to be discreet if she finds out about him? At this moment my concern for his health far outweighs my desire to protect his privacy. I hope Edward can forgive me.

"I want you to find out anything you can about Dr. Robert Banner."

* * *

><p><em>"You seem more anxious than usual today. Is something bothering you?"<em>

_Edward looks blankly at Banner. "Do I really need to answer that?"_

_"Yes, you do."_

_"Look at the fucking calendar."_

_"Today is April 5th."_

_"And tomorrow's the full moon. What are you going to do with me?"_

_"Edward, we've discussed this already. This treatment has been incredibly effective on previous patients with your condition. I am quite pleased with your progress and I am not worried about tomorrow."_

_"Are you fucking kidding me? What if it doesn't work?"_

_"It will work. You'll be fine Edward."_

_"It's not me I'm worried about!"_

_"What are you afraid of Edward?"_

_Edward slides down from his perch on the window sill and walks over to Banner's desk. Looking the doctor straight in the eye, he says in an cold even tone, "I'm afraid that I will kill everyone on this ward. You, and Angela, and all the fucking nut jobs on this floor. That I will wake up soaked in someone else's blood."_

_After a long pause, Banner asks, "Has this happened to you before?"_

_"No. Not yet." He turns his back to Banner and walks to the window, looking down at the street._

_"Is this a concern of yours Edward? That you will hurt other people?"_

_"Yes. Always." After sometime passes, he adds, "But I would never let it get that far."_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"I'd stop myself before I could hurt anyone."_

_"How so?"_

_"A gun. Rope. Whatever was available."_

_Edward turns to face the doctor just as Banner is carefully replacing the phone in it's cradle. His eyes dart back from the phone, to Banner's face and back again._

_"Who did you just page?"_

_Banner ignores the question. "I'm concerned about you Edward. Have you had these thoughts of self-harm before?"_

_Edward's eyes narrow. He stares the doctor down. "You think I'm crazy."_

_"I never said that."_

_"I'm leaving."_

_Banner glances down at his watch. "We still have fifteen minutes left today."_

_"Fuck off Banner. I'm checking out."_

_Edward opens the office door, only to be met by two large male orderlies. He looks back at Banner, absolutely furious. "You can't fucking keep me here. I checked myself in."_

_"I'm sorry Edward. I'm concerned for your well-being. I just want to keep you here for a few more days."_

_Banner swivels his comfortable leather chair away from the door. He studies his notes, trying and failing to block out the sound of the orderlies restraining his patient. He types on his laptop, "Patient expresses thoughts of suicide, self-harm. Fixation on violent fantasies, may present a physical danger to himself and others."_


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

It is unnaturally, almost disturbingly balmy for Chicago in early April. If it wasn't for the naked tree branches outside my window, I'd think it was summertime. I push thoughts of global warming and meteorological disasters to the back of my mind and instead decide to wear a new dress today. It is a pretty modest cut, but I feel strangely overexposed with so much bare skin showing. I hope Edward likes it. He has never seen me in a dress before.

I'm looking forward to the summer, to sun-kissed skin and maybe lazy days at the beach. I try to visualize him in beachwear but it just feels wrong. I adjust the image in my head to Edward in a plaid shirt with the sleeves cut off. And jorts. Okay, maybe not the jorts. I'm not liking this at all. Summer Edward Cullen has somehow morphed into Matthew McConaughey, which makes me shudder.

The real reason I'm pondering his warm-weather garb is I'm too nervous to eat anything and I'm avoiding my roommate. We do the girl thing where we act as if everything is normal, but the air is thick with tension. Rosalie knows exactly where I'm headed this morning, but she just continues to tap away at her laptop and says nothing as I pour myself a cup of coffee. I take my black coffee out to the balcony and wait for the clock to read 9:30 so I can go to the hospital.

As I grab my keys to leave, Rose takes her glasses off and follows me to the door. She leans against the doorway, blocking my exit. I know my roommate is going to tell me I'm making another bad decision. She will tell me I'm wrong because she has become a good friend and because that's what a normal sane person is supposed to say when you try to bring your sort-of boyfriend home from the mental hospital. Or she would, but she doesn't know about my plans for that last part yet.

I brace myself for the lecture I am about to receive. "Okay, let me have it."

She is quiet for a long time. She grimaces, squeezing her eyes shut and rubbing the bridge of her nose. Rose opens her eyes and shakes her head. "It doesn't matter what I say does it?"

"No," I admit. "I'm sorry Rose."

"You're going to hate me for saying this, but as your friend, I cannot let you leave without telling you I think you're making a huge mistake."

"Maybe."

"So don't go. Please Bella."

"I have to."

She looks so disappointed. It hurts to see that look of pity on her face. I know Rosalie thinks I'm a lost cause. Maybe she's right. I meet her gaze with steely determination. We are at an impasse. We both know there is nothing I can say that will change Rosalie's mind, and nothing she will say that will change mine.

"I'm sorry. I have to go now."

She tucks an errant strand of hair behind my ear offers me a sad smile. "You look really pretty B."

"Thanks. I'm sorry I can't listen to you're advice."

"_Won't. Won't_ listen to."

I shake my head no. There is no other option. None that I could live with anyway. "I'm going to be late."

She steps aside to let me pass.

"Be careful."

"I will."

* * *

><p>Today, I will ask Edward to come home with me. I don't know anything about this Dr. Banner or this treatment, but I don't need years of medical school to tell me that whatever he's doing to Edward is killing him. Banner may be trying to kill the wolf inside Edward, but it looks like he's destroying the man alongside it.<p>

Angela is sitting at the nurse's station alone when I arrive. She has on pink scrubs today. She spots me and smiles warmly.

"Bella dear, good to see you again."

"It's good to see you too Angela. How are you?"

While I fill out my visitor paperwork, Angela tells me all about the trip to Door County she's taking with her husband as soon as her shift is over this evening. She chatters on pleasantly about the quaint little lake house they've rented and begins to list some of the features but I only process the first part of what she's saying. I'm too busy looking through that little glass window for Edward but he is not waiting for me as I expected.

Angela takes the clipboard back and starts to fill out a visitor name tag. She pauses, looking from the clipboard to my face and back again. Without a word, she reaches into her totebag and pulls out my book. Flipping to the back cover, she looks up at me one more time just to confirm. A wide grin spreads across Angela's face as she holds up the photograph of me. Sheepishly, I nod yes.

"Why didn't you say anything?" she chides.

I shrug noncommitally. "I don't know. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to mislead you the other day."

"Are you kidding me dear? I'm thrilled! There's no need to say sorry. Would you mind signing my book?" She walks over to another desk and rifles around until she finds yet another copy of my book. "And Ben's too? He's a huge fan. I got him hooked." I'm assuming Ben is the nurse from the other day, based on the ID hanging from a lanyard next to his desk.

I gladly sign their books as Angela bombards me with questions about the sequel and I duck them as best I can. I gently nudge her, reminding her the reason I'm here. She calls Edward's room to let him know I have come to see him. I try not to read too much into the fact that he was not waiting for me, but the thought come unbidden anyway. Did he not think I was coming to see him again? Does he even want to see me?

Angela frowns slightly. When she notices me watching her she quickly averts her eyes. She turns away from me and walks as far as the cord will allow. She's murmuring something to the other person on the line but I can't catch a word of their conversation.

She looks pained as she turns back to face me. Oh God. My blood starts to rise, my mind flashing to the worst scenarios imaginable. In a gentle voice, she tells me, "I'm really sorry Bella, Edward isn't up for seeing visitors today."

"Is he okay?"

"He's fine, he's fine, relax Bella." She rises and walks around the low cubicle to offer me a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "There there, you're okay. He had a...difficult day yesterday. They had to give him something to calm him down a bit."

What does that mean? Is she saying they gave him tranquilizers or something? Is that even legal?

Angela walks back behind the desk and scribbles something on a post-it and then hands it to me. I accept it numbly.

"This is my direct extension. Just call me in a couple of days and I'll let you know if Edward is up to having visitors. It'll save you a trip down here." She smiles as if this is at all helpful.

A couple of days? I don't even know what to say. A smile and a thank you would be appropriate here but I can't bring myself to do it. "Are you sure he's okay?"

"Edward is fine. He just needs to rest. You don't need to worry about him. He's in good hands here. Dr. Banner is an excellent doctor."

Somehow I manage to find my way home, but I'm sick with worry the entire time. I don't even notice my phone is ringing. That's odd, I have twelve missed calls from Rosalie. She never calls, she hates talking on the phone and I just saw her less than two hours ago. Suddenly, a text message from her pops up. "_OMFG. Get home now B. Hurry."_

* * *

><p>Rosalie nearly knocks me over as I walk through the door.<p>

"Fuck! I'm sorry! Are you okay?" She holds me at arms length, inspecting me for any visible injuries. "Oh thank God you're all right!" And then she gives me a pathetic, Rosalie Hale hug. With her thin arms and frail creepy hold, it's like being embraced by Mr. Burns. I endure it for as long as I can be expected to because I know Rosalie is trying for my sake.

"I'm fine Rose. Let me go. What's going on?"

It must be something serious if Rosalie Hale thinks it warrants a hug. She looks visibly relieved. Now that she has determined that I'm safe and sound, her expression quickly turns annoyed. "Why the fuck didn't you answer my calls?"

"My phone was on silent. Seriously, what is going on here?"

She drags me into the kitchen and sits me down at the table.

"I was digging around on Banner. The dude's legit. Graduated from Northwestern, board certified, no malpractice lawsuits. He's been married for 23 years to the same woman, three kids, sweet house in Highland Park. He's totally clean on paper."

"And...?" This is the part where she tells me Banner is a quack. That he is a sociopath, that he preys on poor unsuspecting shapeshifters.

"And...nothing. He's legit. As far as I can tell, the dude is a great doctor. Impeccable reputation."

No. I don't believe her. He's killing Edward. I know it. I can see it. And now he's got him trapped in that hospital doing God knows what to Edward.

"Okay, so, I had to dig a little deeper. I hacked into his computer- you can't tell anyone about this by the way, it's way illegal" she pauses, looking up from the computer screen.

I nod. "Of course not. Thank you for doing that Rosalie."

"It's nothing. So, I got into his personal files–his password, by the way, was the youngest kid's social security number backwards–so obvious," she rolls her eyes. No, not really obvious. The ease at which she just casually hacked into his personal computer scares me a little. "Anyway, I found Edgar's file."

"And?"

"Look B, I don't know how to tell you this..." Rosalie'e eyes dart around the room, either stalling for time or searching for a way to break the news gently to me. My heart sinks deeper and deeper into my chest. Rosalie is never at a loss for words so it must be something truly awful. I take a deep breath and meet her wary eyes. "Bella...He is a fucking nut job!" she blurts out. So much for delicacy.

What? She's dead serious. I'm so confused here. "Edward is not crazy."

"I know you like the guy, and he's apparently blessed with a magic peen or whatever, but you need to listen to me. He is out of his fucking mind. The dude thinks he's a fucking _werewolf_."

This situation is just too absurd for words. I'm so relieved I can't help the nervous giggle that escapes my lips. This might be an inappropriate reaction. Judging by Rosalie's glare, she doesn't think I'm taking her warnings seriously enough.

"This is serious B. He told Banner he's a werewolf. He gets naked and hangs out with other dudes that think they're werewolves too."

Again, another smile comes unbidden to my lips. She must be talking about Jasper. "I know."

"Wait, what?"

"I know Rosalie." I meet her incredulous gaze. I'm feeling reckless. Rosalie probably already knows everything. And if she doesn't, she'll find out. The last thing I care about is if my roommate thinks I'm insane or not. Edward is imprisoned in the psych ward of the hospital and I cannot figure out a way to free him. For all I know, he could be hurt, or in danger or worse, and there's nothing I can do to save him. "I know he's a werewolf."

She guffaws loudly. When I don't respond in kind, her smile falters and she gapes at me.

"You know Edgar's a werewolf," she says evenly.

"Edward. And Yes."

"And you're okay with this."

"Kind of. Yes."

She inches slowly closer and closer to me, the way one might approach a grizzly bear in the wild. I involuntarily lean back as Rosalie gingerly places her palm on my forehead. I bat her hand away.

"Stop that. I don't have a fever. I'm not sick."

Her blue eyes narrow with disbelief, her nose wrinkles up as if she's smelled something terrible. She leans back in her chair and stares at me. "You're fucking serious."

There's no way I'm ever going to convince Rosalie that Edward Cullen is a werewolf. I know exactly how crazy I sound right now. "Yes. Edward is a werewolf. Deal with it okay? Banner claims he knows how to cure him. The alcoholism thing was just a front so the hospital doesn't get involved."

She gawks at me, mouth agape.

"Okay, I'm just going to assume you are going through some drama in your life and are not in your right mind. I'm just going to ignore how crazytown you sound."

"I know you think I'm insane and I don't expect you to believe me, I know it sounds crazy. Just...can you just show me what you found on Banner?"

Rosalie looks at me like she's realizing just now what a terrible idea it was to find a roommate on Craigslist. Even if she did 'google' me. Which I'm realizing now was probably more in depth than a simple background check. You can never really know people, no matter how careful you are, how many precautions you take. She slides the laptop closer to me so I can see the screen. As I scan Banner's notes, I can feel Rosalie's eyes on me, and all the weight of her judgement behind them. I have to shrug it off. Maybe I shouldn't have told her the truth, but she already knows it even if she doesn't believe it yet.

I'm currently skimming Banner's notes on Edward, his sessions dating back to just over three weeks ago. I feel guilty, eavesdropping on Edward without his consent. Banner keeps his observations fairly neutral, only mentioning a few times that Edward is "_taciturn_" and "_resistant to treatment_". Also that he uses a lot of "_colorful language_". This makes me smile.

A lot of it I already know. I wasn't entirely aware of Carlisle's struggle with alcoholism, for one. I had suspected, but I had never known the extent of it. My heart sinks when I get to the part where Banner writes that Edward has suffered "_extreme mental and physical_ _abuse and neglect by father, possible sexual abuse..._" No. Carlisle would never...Edward never told me...

I reread Edward's remarks from that session. In fact, he vehemently denies being abused. I know it looks bad, what Edward's dad did to him certainly looks like abuse. This is the only case where drugging your child and locking him in a basement could ever be construed as an act of love. It's worrisome that Banner fails to acknowledge this, considering he is fully aware of the circumstances of Edward's situation.

Edward barely mentions Alice and Jasper, nor the terrible events that led to their tragic demise. Probably because he couldn't without getting the police involved. There is doctor patient confidentiality of course, but If I know Edward at all, he doesn't entirely trust this Dr. Banner. And neither do I. The doctor's questions seem to be circling around a certain issue, he seems overly invested in exploring Edward's sexual history. I really don't see how any of his relates at all to curing Edward of lycanthropy.

An ugly thread of insecurity wrapped in jealousy begins to uncurl deep inside me as I read of Edward's exploits with countless unnamed women. I know intellectually I shouldn't expect Edward to have been celibate before we met, but the parade of women in smoky bars and seedy hotel rooms feels like a slap in the face. He has had a seemingly infinite number of anonymous sexual encounters. I keep waiting for my name to arise and yet it never does. I wonder at the fact that I don't merit a mention by name. I wonder if I'm just another victim to fall prey to the lure of Edward Cullen. Banner even goes as far to suggest Edward may have had some kind of sexual relationship with Jasper and Alice. No. I can't believe that. The man Banner is describing bears no resemblance to the Edward Cullen that I know.

"Where are you?" Rose pipes in. She's impatiently drumming her fingers along the edge of the table top.

"Edward is talking about all the women he's slept with."

Rose presses her lips in a thin line, pulling the Macbook toward herself and scrolls down. "You don't need to read most of this. It is just Edward not talking and refusing to answer any questions. He stops cooperating when Banner starts getting into the sexual stuff with that Jasper guy. Let's see...Okay, here."

_"Patient E is a fairly classic case of clinical lycanthropy."_

Clinical Lycanthropy? What?

_"...predisposed due to extreme living conditions, isolated on a mountain top, little daily interaction with other humans...dealing with subconscious sexual conflicts, bizarre and chaotic sexuality expressed in a primitive way through the lycanthropic symptom complex..."_

_I glance over at Rose but she just nudges me to keep reading._

_"Man-animal transformation is seen only after the intake of psychotropic substances as well as alcohol abuse...transformation occurs during psychotic episodes caused by bipolar disorder. Length of transformation is short, usually lasting no longer than half a day, occurring regularly on the night of the full moon. Patient E has no memory of being the wolf, only his transition into wolf-form."_

My mind is reeling with this assault of new information. Banner has been poisoning Edward with a cocktail of medications that sound deadly and ominous: _chlorpromazine, perhanazine, fluoxetine. _All of these drugs with who knows what kind of side-affects, for a condition he does not have. No wonder he looks like he is dying. A lot of the psychiatric lingo is going over my head, but I get the gist. Banner has never cured a werewolf in his life. He wouldn't know one if it was standing directly in front of him. He is operating under the faulty premise that Edward is suffering hallucinations as the result of severe bipolar disorder. And apparently clinical lycanthropy is a real thing? And there are enough of them out there that Edward's case could be considered "classic".

I sink back in my chair.

"Are you okay?"

I almost forgot Rosalie was sitting next to me. Her expression has shifted to one of concern.

I shake my head, unable to speak.

"Look B, I know this difficult to hear...But, you understand now why you have to stay away from him right? Edward is dangerous. He's not good for you."

My head snaps up immediately.

"Rose. You don't know anything. So please don't tell me what is or isn't 'good for me' okay?" I snap back.

"You think I want to be put in this kill the messenger situation? You might hate me forever and not want to be friends with me anymore but I'm going to tell you this because nobody else will and he's got you so wrapped up in his crazy you can't see what is right in front of you. Edward is Fucked. Up. Period. He treats you like crap. He won't even call you his girlfriend. He's a fucking alcoholic. He gets you knocked up and then abandons you. And on top of all this, I find out one night out of the month, he thinks he turns into a fucking werewolf?"

I can't say anything to rebut her claims. How can she be so wrong and so right at the same time? I just shake my head silently as she continues her tirade.

"He's dangerous, Bella. You can't keep seeing him."

"He's not dangerous Rosalie." Another lie. He doesn't mean to be at least.

"Yes he is. They've given him tranqs and have him under physical restraints after he threatened Banner yesterday."

"What?"

"Seriously, he's a real peach."

I want to slap that smug self-righteous look off her face. _Restraints? M_y blood boils at the thought of poor Edward trapped in that hospital prison. As if our situation wasn't impossible enough before, I feel as if any chance we could have had has been completely annihilated and buried deep within the Earth.

"You know nothing Rosalie."

"You're mad at me."

I'm not sure. I spend a few minutes processing the situation before finally replying, "No, I'm not mad at you." I mean it. She's wrong, but this is how any other person who didn't know the truth would act and I can't blame her for it. As infuriating as she is right now, I know it only comes out of her concern for me, her desire to protect me from what she perceives as a danger.

I choose my words carefully. "Rosalie, I know you don't believe either of us and I don't blame you. It's unfathomable, I acknowledge that. You just have to trust me though when I say Edward is not a dangerous person. I know him. He's a good man."

I give her a hard look to emphasize my point, but she remains skeptical.

"Look you may not agree with me, and you never will, that's fine. But I need you to understand that despite whatever issues he may have, I love this man. I love Edward Cullen. And I'm in it for good, and nothing you say is going to change that. Banner may have the best of intentions, but he doesn't comprehend the whole situation. His diagnosis is straight up wrong and it's dangerous what he's doing. All I know is, this Doctor is slowly killing Edward and I need to get him out of there before they make him worse than he already is. Preferably before the full moon," I add.

"What are you going to do with him if you get him out?"

"See if Carlisle can help him." I can see the gears in her mind working. "And no, Banner is wrong about Carlisle too. Edward told me about it. He never abused him."

Rose appears to be unmoved. She swears softly under her breath and shakes her head, chastising herself or me I don't know. She drags the laptop back to herself and types something but I can't see the screen.

"This is crazy town, I can't believe I'm doing this..." she mutters.

"What?"

"You want to get Edward out? We better hurry B, the full moon's tonight."

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: I've taken many many artistic liberties here, but Clinical Lycanthropy is a rare but very real condition, caused by psychotic-episodes related to another condition such as schizophrenia, bipolar disorder or clinical depression.<strong>_


	21. Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21

"Just so we are on the same page here, 'werewolf' isn't some cringe-y new sexual euphemism that I'm not aware of? Like 'puma'?"

I've been on hold for ages now, but with my luck the operator would answer just as I was telling Rosalie to fuck off, so I settle for flipping her the bird. Rosalie has passed through denial and anger, and is currently in the stage where she mocks me mercilessly. Glad to see one of us still has her sense of humor. If she needs to make a joke out of it fine, whatever it takes for her to help me.

"Hello? Yes, this is Bella Swan, I'd like to speak with Dr. Carlisle Cullen immediately. It's an emergency. Yes, I'll hold." After I'd explained that no, Carlisle was not the child abuser that Banner made him out to be, we decided our best course of action would be to call Carlisle and get him to somehow release Edward. Rose is fiddling around on her laptop, apparently looking at a moon phase calendar.

"B, how long were you in Cali with Edward?"

"Two months."

"So...presumably, he must have...shapeshifted? When you were there?"

Jeez. How do I even respond to that? She knows I know Edward thinks he's a werewolf, but she doesn't know I believe him. I'm deciding my best course of action when I am saved by a voice on the line.

"Hello? Carlisle?"

"I'm sorry, Dr. Cullen is not available. If this is an emergency, I can put you in touch with Dr. Gupta or Dr. Liu."

"I just really need to speak to Dr. Cullen. It's very urgent. Can you give me his cell?"

"I'm very sorry, we are not authorized to give out personal contact information."

"I understand that, but there is an emergency with his son. It's absolutely a matter of life and death."

"Miss Swan, I wish I could put you in contact with Dr. Cullen, but he is currently on a plane on his way to Brussels for a conference. I can take your information and make sure he receives your message as soon as he lands."

I thank her and leave my message, even though I know it will be too late. A call to Esme's office confirms that she is also on that plane with her husband. I don't know what she could have done anyway. Fuck fuck fuck. I sink down in my chair and bury my head in my hands. I'm trying my best not to panic, but I had foolishly placed all my hopes on Carlisle swooping in and saving the day. He is literally unreachable and I have been burdened with the impossible task of breaking Edward out of the hospital, with only a few short hours to figure out a plan to do so.

Rosalie is watching me, still waiting for an answer.

"I can't get in touch with Esme and Carlisle. They're on a plane to Brussels for some conference. They don't land for hours."

"Fuck," is her only response. She gets up to brew another cup of coffee. Stimulants are the last thing I need right now, I feel as if I might have a panic attack, my heart is beating so fast.

"You haven't answered my question," she states, matter of factly.

I guess my diversionary tactic has not worked. I look up at my roommate, who is peering at me with a studiously neutral expression. If I tell her the truth, she won't believe me. Or worse, she will ship me off to the loony bin to be roommates with Edward.

"Honestly Rose, I don't think you want me to answer that. You aren't going to like what I say. It's going to sound crazy, no matter what. So I'm not going to say it." She opens her mouth to speak, a smart assed remark on the tip of her tongue. I cut her off before she gets a chance. "it doesn't matter whether or not I believe him. All that matters, is that Edward is being held against his will and I need to figure out a way to free him."

Rose is quiet for a long time, absorbing my words. I meet her steely gaze with a confidence I don't quite feel. I need all the help I can get, and if Rosalie senses any weakness in my resolve, I'm certain she will pull out.

"This is fucking crazytown," she says finally.

"Yes."

"You expect me to just accept this? That your bf is a fucking werewolf? Even though I know that's totally nutso and I have evidence to the contrary, real evidence from a reliable source. Pages and pages of notes that all say the same thing, that Edward is sick and needs professional help. Banner is not some charlatan B, he is a real doctor, with credentials, who has cured other people with Edward's exact same disorder."

"I don't expect you to believe me, or even agree with me. But I know Edward, he may have his issues but he is not dangerous and he does not deserve to be imprisoned in that hospital."

"You're asking me to do something illegal. You want me to help you bust him out of the mental hospital."

I quirk an eyebrow. "If I recall correctly, you kinda sorta volunteered your services. I never would have asked you to do anything illegal, it you hadn't offered. Rosalie, he's not just some guy I sort of dated. He's...Edward is, I really...I love him, okay?" My admission hangs in midair, surprising me almost as much as Rosalie. I think it's the first time I've said it aloud. Quietly, I say, "You can't tell me that if our situations were reversed and it was Emmett that was locked up you wouldn't be doing the exact same thing I'm trying to do."

She is silent, lips pressed together in a tight line, considering my words. "Fair enough," she says finally.

"I need your help. Just this one time. You can give me as much hell about it as you want when it's over."

She shakes her head. "Just this once B. He better be worth it."

"He is."

* * *

><p>"Are you sure you want to do this?" Rosalie looks skeptical. I hope she doesn't intend on backing out now. "There's got to be another way..."<p>

"There isn't. There isn't any time."

I steel myself and raise my fist to knock. Ready or not...

It's dark and dank in Mike's mother's basement. The nag champa incense does little to mask the smell of pot and mildew and some other mysterious odor that I don't really care to identify. Why we have to come down here at all, I don't understand. He mumbled some excuse about looking for the keys and then somehow cajoled me and Rosalie into following him. I just need to borrow his van. Of course Mike Newton drives a van.

Rosalie doesn't even try to hide her disdain, not that Mike would ever notice. She refuses his invitation to sit on the lumpy beer-stained brown microfiber couch and stands stiffly in the middle of the room, trying to not touch anything. He seems to be making no attempt at all to locate his keys, instead flipping through his records, casually changing his shirt for no good reason. I politely decline his offers to smoke weed and listen to the "sick beats" he's working on. I scan the room, so as to avoid looking at Mike's shirtless torso. He catches me eyeing the fancy camera sitting on a stack of Terry Richardson coffee table books.

"You shoot?" he asks.

"No. That's a nice camera though."

"I dabble," he says with feigned modesty. He sits down next to me on the lumpy couch, a little too close for comfort. I inch as far away as I can without appearing rude. "Can I be honest with you?"

No. Please don't. I shrug in response.

"Has anyone ever told you you have the most expressive eyes? Your eyes...they're like, chocolate orbs...so mesmerizing. You have a really old soul, Bella. It was the first thing I noticed about you."

Wrong. The first thing he noticed about me was my boobs. Then my ass. He couldn't stop staring that first night we met. What a creeper. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. I need his van. And his drugs.

"I wonder...if you'd let me take your photograph sometime." He says this casually, as if the thought has just occured to him and he hasn't used this exact line on every girl that has had the misfortune of sitting on this couch.

Oh Lord. I arrange my face into what I hope looks like a smile, but I'm sure the effect is more grotesque than anything. This is for Edward, I remind myself.

"Mmmm, maybe? I'll think about it. Anyway, do you have that other stuff we talked about?"

"Yeah, right here. He pulls a small plastic bag out of his pocket and hands it to me. I give him cash and examine the contents of the bag carefully.

"That's kind of a lot for the both of you. You might want to start off with less if it's your first time. You got hypos?"

I nod. It's not for me and Rose but Mike doesn't need to know that. "Where'd you get this stuff anyway?"

"I have my sources," he says cryptically.

I can sense Rosalie rolling her eyes from across the room. "Bullshit. His Dad's a vet. Runs the animal hospital on Broadway."

"Oh. That's nice."

Mike is nonplussed. "Yeah well, my Dad always has the best shit...You girls want to party here?"

I'm searching for the exits when I hear Rosalie let out a little shriek.

"Found 'em!" Rosalie exclaims, jangling the keys in my face. "Let's get the fuck out of here!"

I love Rosalie Hale. I take back every ungenerous thought I ever had about her. She is a saint. She is up the stairs without further ado and I gratefully run after her.

"Thanks Mike! We'll have your van back to you tomorrow, good as new!"

"Hey, maybe we could hang out sometime? My boy Chee-lo just got back from LA with some really sick..." I don't get to hear what sick thing Chee-lo came back with because we are out the door in record time. We drive to the apartment so that Rosalie can drop off her car and pick up a few supplies.

* * *

><p>"Here. You might need these."<p>

I eye the item Rosalie is holding in front of me with disdain. She gives me a withering look.

"Don't look at me like Edgar never tied you up. I bet you love that shit."

"Whether or not he tied me up is none of your business Rose. I just don't want to touch your sex toys."

"Relax. These only went on Emmett's wrists. I cleaned them, I swear."

I try to block that uninvited image from my mind. "Oversharing. You're doing it again."

"I've got nothing to hide. Just take them, you might need them later."

I pick up the gold handcuffs gingerly and drop them in the duffel bag, alongside some rope, duct tape, hypodermic needles and what I hope is enough animal tranquilizer to knock out a giant wolf. I throw the bag in the back of the van, praying that I haven't forgotten anything. Rosalie drives carefully to the hospital, obeying every traffic law to the letter. The fact that Mike's van looks like it could pass for a mobile meth lab doesn't help our cause. It wouldn't do to be pulled over right now. I had forgotten what Lakeshore Drive looks like during the evening rush hour. Our van creeps along at a snails pace. I keep looking at the sky, trying not to cry in frustration. All of our caution, all of our plans will be for naught if we don't get to the hospital before sundown.

I want to laugh hysterically at the absurdity of the situation. It's like a parody of a heist flick. A cruel joke. It is as if the universe wants us to fail. Instead of some ass-kicking heroine, it is I, Bella Swan who is here to save the day. I was an English major. An indoor kid. There could be no person more ill suited to perform this jailbreak. I have a plan. It's not a great plan, there are too many things that could go wrong. But it's the best thing I could come up with. We near the hospital and Rose pulls over to a loading area.

"This is crazytown."

"You already said that."

She takes out her laptop, pulling up a map of the fourth floor of the hospital.

"Text me when you're at the psych ward. Security is pretty tight, understandable, of course. Wouldn't want the crazies to get out. Anyway, you can't get through the doors without a key card. I'm going to wait ten minutes before shutting the electricity off on that floor. I'm guessing you've got probably no more than fifteen minutes before the generators kick in. Don't give me that look."

I am in awe. This is beyond anything I could have dreamed up. "Jeez Rose. Who are you?"

"Someone who is saving your ass. Look, your plan, it ain't gonna work."

"How do you know that?" I'm nervous, switching gears so last minute. This is not what I had prepared for.

"So you're going to distract that fangirl nurse with the manuscript to your sequel? And then what? You were just going to waltz in that locked ward? Seriously B, security would be on your ass in no time at all. And then you can say bye bye to Edgar. This is a better plan. It'll work. Trust me."

There's no point in arguing with her because we don't have time and she's right. "Okay, then what?"

"The locks will be disabled and that should hopefully be enough time for you to get your wolfman out without having to deal with security. I'm going to set off an alarm in another part of the building so they will have their hands full with that. Don't take the elevator, there's a stairwell here," she says, pointing at another corner of the map. "I'm going to pull around and we'll lock him in the back. We need to get him in here and sedate him quickly, if Edward's everything that he says he is."

We both look up at the sun hanging low in the sky.

"Just for the record I don't believe it for one second."

"Got it. Thanks Rose." I mean it. I wish I could express just how grateful I am for all her help.

"Don't thank me yet. Just go. Be careful B."

I'm absolutely certain every single person I pass can read the guilt on my face. I feel woozy, liable to faint at any given moment, but I swallow my fear and anxiety. This is not the time to be meek or timid. I have to be strong, I can't let him down. I step inside and ride the elevator to the fourth floor.

I let out the breath I was holding when I round the corner and spot a familiar curly head and pink scrubs bowed down at her desk. She hasn't spotted me yet. I step back and text Rosalie before making my way toward Angela. Act normal. Act normal Bella. I'm so still and silent, Angela doesn't even hear me approach her desk. I fidget slightly and her head pops up, slightly startled to see me standing before her.

"Bella! Honey, what are you doing here? I thought for sure I wouldn't hear from you for a few days at least."

"Hi Angela...I'm ah, I just wanted to stop by because I had a favor to ask of you?" My voice comes out strange, artificially saccharine. Get it together Bella. I try to remember how to act like a normal human being. I curl my lips up into what I hope looks like a smile. My blood pressure must be off the charts right now.

She smiles, uneasily. Angela is accustomed to dealing with the mentally unsound. Ever diplomatically, she says, "Well, I can't promise anything, but I'll see what I can do?"

"Thanks Angela. It's not a huge deal, I hope." I check the time on my phone. I need to stall for a few more minutes. "You see, I've been working on the sequel, to my book? My roommate is sick of hearing about this book and I could really use a fresh perspective on it. I was wondering if you'd be interested, I mean, if you have time of course, in looking at it and giving me some feedback?"

Angela facial expression transforms from cautious and wary, to visibly relieved. She perks up dramatically. "You're kidding me."

"No, I'm totally serious. That is, only if you want to, and you have time."

"Oh my God, I'd love to!"

"That's great. That's fantastic." My eyes dart toward the door. Someone is coming. A chill runs along the entire length of my spine, I feel it in every single vertebrae, unrelenting dread. I only saw him for a few seconds, but I will never forget that face. I recognize the black hair and glasses, the olive skin. Quickly, I look down, letting my hair fall like a dark curtain around my face, absolutely certain that I've flushed beet red. I don't know if he would remember me. He only caught my eye for a brief moment back at Edward's house, but I can't afford to get found out now. My heart is pounding so loudly, I'm certain they can hear it. He stops in front of the desk, just feet away from me. I dig around in my purse, pretending to search for something, when really I am staring at his tan leather shoes. He's standing right next to me. He sees me. Banner knows why I'm here. Oh my God. Oh my God. I can't breathe anymore.

"Angela, I need to step out for few minutes. I've got my pager."

"Sure thing, Dr. Banner."

I keep my head bowed, until I can no longer hear his footfalls. I pull out the manuscript and pass it to her. Her eyes grow wide. Angela looks at me like I've just handed her a thick stack of hundred dollar bills. She beams at me. She is really a genuinely kind person. I feel badly for lying to her about my reasons for being here, but hopefully letting her read the manuscript with alleviate some of my guilt.

"Wow. Thanks Bella. This is so amazing."

"No. Thank you. You are helping me out, so much, you don't even know."

She shakes her head, smiling and flipping through the pages. Come on Rosalie. Now. Where the hell is she? What if she can't get into the system?

"It's just a rough draft. Basically the first book, told through the guy's perspective."

"Oh, I'm sure it will be wonderful. I can't wait to read it. Ben is going to flip out."

"Oh...about that. Would you mind keeping this just between the two of us? I don't want to risk it getting leaked before its published."

"Of course. I understand."

The lights cut off abruptly and we are enshrouded in darkness. There is the low moan of electronics failing and Angela exclaims in surprise but I am running through the doors before she registers what is going on. I tear blindly through the corridors, searching through glass windows for his face. I push past hospital employees and a few patients milling about in confusion, but I can't find him. I am silently screaming, panic coursing through my veins. There are dozens and dozens of rooms in this wing of the hospital. It feels, infinite, endless, and Edward is not in any of them. The horrific realization that he could be anywhere, another floor, another building entirely and I may never find Edward. I turn down another darkened corridor, letting out a strangled cry of relief. He's here. It's not over yet.

I burst through the door, but he barely registers my presence in the darkness of his cell. His face is turned away from mine, but I'd recognize that profile anywhere. They have him restrained, wrists and feet tied down with thick leather belts.

"Edward! We need to go!" I scream at him. I unbuckle the leather straps, freeing him, but he does not stir. "Edward!" I cry, grabbing his face in my hands. "Edward we need to leave, right now!"

He is dead-eyed, staring at me blankly. "I can't leave. I'm going to kill everyone. I'm going to die here," He says, resigned.

"No! Edward you need to snap out of it. Get up! Let's go!" I tug at his wrist and try to pull him off the bed.

He shakes his head, smiling crookedly at me. His green eyes are milky and unfocused, still clearly under the influence of whatever drug Banner has pumped into his blood. "Edward, you need to wake the fuck up! This is not a dream!"

"This is a dream...You're here." His rough fingertips graze my cheek reverently. He pulls me closer, brushing his lips softly against my own. It it the faintest of touches, as soft as a freshly fallen snow on my skin. Edward Cullen in a drug haze still has the power to make my heart stop. As much as I love this, time is running out for us. I do the first thing that comes to mind. I slap him hard across the face.

He blinks. "You're being really adorable right now, but this is not a dream Edward. We need to get you locked up before you turn into a wolf. There isn't much time."

He bolts up, looking around the room as if for the first time. Without another word, he grabs my hand and we run from the room. I don't know where I'm going, but Edward seems to know his way. I trail him blindly, as he moves like a man possessed through the dark halls. We arrive at the elevator bank and freeze.

"Rosalie shut the power off. We need to find the stairs."

He drags me down more unlit labyrinthian hallways. It's a miracle that Edward can find his way in this blackness. We are only a few yards away from the stairwell door, just illuminated by a shaft of light. The door opens and I pull Edward back as Banner's head comes into view. He is out of breath from his ascent up and hasn't yet see our faces yet in the dark. Banner looks up, locking eyes with me just as I pull Edward in the opposite direction. The doctor cries out for Edward to stop, but we are already sprinting away.

"There's another stairwell."

We're running, faster than we've ever run in our lives. Adrenaline buzzing through our blood, we race blindly through black endless corridors, pushing through heavy metal doors and searching desperately for an exit. Edward never lets go of my hand.

"It's just past here," he tells me breathlessly. We have escaped to the newly remodeled wing of the floor. Huge windows line one wall from floor to ceiling, bathing us in the deep red glow of dusk. I smile at him. Almost there. I can finally breathe again. It was close, but we did it. We saved Edward. Rosalie will be waiting for us outside with a snarky remark. I won't care because I'll know Edward is finally safe.

As Edward turns the handle, there is a flicker of light. One by one, like dominoes collapsing the fluorescents come humming back to life. A metallic click, like a gun being cocked echoes through the empty corridor. Edward jiggles the handle but it will not budge. I drop my hand from his. My heart sinks when I see that tiny red light. I rest my hand on his shoulder and point to the key card reader next to the door.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Motherfucker."

His words are a desperate plea, a prayer. Nothing short of a miracle can save us now. He rages, slamming his body into the metal door. He runs back the way we came but that door is locked as well. I call Rosalie, my one last hope. She picks up on the first ring.

"Where the fuck are you? The sun is setting!"

"Rose, you need to turn off the power again! We're trapped in here!"

"Holy fuck. Shit. Shit! Okay. Give me a few minutes B. B, are you still there...? Bella...?"

I don't hear Rosalie. My phone slips from my grasp, falling with a dull thud to the white tiled floor. Edward is no longer throwing his body at the door. I swallow. It's too late. All the blood has drained from his face, his skin damp with perspiration. It has already begun. And this is how we end. There are no choices left, only one path left to take.

"No. No. Not like this. This is a dream." Edward is shaking his head, as if saying the words will make it true.

"Edward," I say softly.

He turns back to me, his face eerily serene. He sinks to his knees before me, taking my hands and placing them around his neck. "Please Bella."

I don't understand.

"Don't let go, until I've stopped breathing."

"No. No Edward," I say horrified, when I realize what he is asking me to do. I try to remove my hands but he won't let me. I drop to my knees until we are eye to eye. To an outside observer, we would look like lovers embracing.

"It's the only way." He kisses me softly. "I'm sorry Bella."

I am shaking my head, whispering, "No, no, no..." and Edward kisses away my tears. This is not happening. "No Edward! I'm not going to do that!" I scream, throwing my hands away from him. I take a step back. "I won't."

Edward is white knuckled, eyes wide with panic. "Please Bella. I can't...I...not you. Not like Alice. Please Bella... Please."

"I'm sorry...I can't." My voice is just a whisper. "I love you too much."

Edward looks at me as if I've stabbed him in the chest. My quiet confession devastates him, destroys him. My words cut deeper than a knife ever could.

He didn't know. I never told him. I don't know why I waited this long. I've been in love with Edward Cullen almost as long as I've known him.

We are still and silent as our shadows grow long. The faint orange light fades to nothing and we are cloaked in moonlight.

"Goodbye Edward."

He screams now, writhing as pain overtakes his body. I close my eyes. I know I shouldn't but this not the last image I want to see of Edward. My Edward. I want to remember him as he was. Infinitely beautiful, as deep and unknowable as the ocean. I lived more in the short time I'd had with him than all of my previous twenty-seven years. I'm jolted from my thoughts by a loud crack.

Edward is hurling his body, with every fiber of his being, at the giant window. I scream and scream until my throat is hoarse, but Edward doesn't hear me. I try to hold him back but he shoves me away, throwing his body, again and again and again. I cry and I plead, I beg him to stop.

He is completely soaked in sweat, his veins blue and throbbing. I can see the muscles begin to ripple, little tremors under the skin. Edward is wild-eyed. Just a few seconds more and he will be gone. With one last terrible howl, he tears toward the wall. I can't watch this. I drop my eyes to the ground. I brace myself for the sound of his body hitting the wall again. I close my eyes, trying to block out the sound of Edward Cullen killing himself. It never comes. The glass shatters into a million pieces and Edward goes crashing through it, falling falling to the ground.

I'm crying and screaming and running toward the window. He lies on the grass below, completely still. I scream his name over and over but Edward does not stir. I want to throw myself out that window. I want to be with Edward. Masculine arms are pulling me back. Banner is holding me back.

I wrestle myself free from his grasp and bolt through the door being held open by a surprised Angela. They are calling my name, but I am already bounding down the stairs. I burst through the exit door and run as fast as can. I can barely see through the hot tears streaming down my face. I'm going to find him. He'll be fine. He's a werewolf. He heals quickly. He's not dead. Please don't be dead.

I am here. I am in the right place. I look up at the broken window. This is where he fell. But there is only emptiness where his body should be. Edward has vanished.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

I stare at empty space. There is nothing here but looming shadows and moonlight. The lingering scent of chocolate and night air fills my lungs. I know I should run. But my feet remain frozen in place, scanning the columns of the parking garage for a flash of copper. No. Grey fur. He has shapeshifted by now. Edward is not dead. I'm absolutely certain of it. The fall would have hurt him, but it's not so high up that it would kill him. If he's wounded, he couldn't have made it very far.

Someone is coming. Footsteps running toward me. Whoever it is, they're too late. I am probably in a lot of trouble right now. I don't care.

I'm jolted from myself by tires screeching, the sweetly noxious odor of burning rubber and Mike's van careening around the corner. It stutters to an abrupt stop, just shy of crashing into me. The passenger door flies open and I hear Rosalie screaming at me to get in. I snap to, climbing in the van just as Banner and a slew of hospital employees come pouring from the exit doors, calling out for me to stop. Rosalie tears out of the hospital parking lot, not bothering to obey any traffic laws and does not slow to a legal speed until we hit Lake Shore Drive. She clutches the steering wheel, only turning to look me over briefly after we are out of harm's way.

"You okay?"

I don't answer. I don't know. I'm not okay. I can't even begin to process what happened. Edward falling through the glass. His body lying limp, lifeless on the ground below. I squeeze back the tears that threaten to fall.

"Rose! We have to go back!" I cry, clutching her arm.

"Fuck no. We're not going back."

"Edward is out there somewhere! We need to find him before he hurts somebody!"

"No."

"Rosalie! You don't understand!" I scream, increasingly hysterical. "If they find him before we do, they'll...God knows what! They'll shoot him or kill him or-"

"Bella," she cuts me off.

"You don't understand!"

"Bella," she says, unhooking my clutching fingers from her arm. "You need to calm the fuck down and let me drive. We can't get pulled over," she says, but her voice sounds...wrong. I look at her closely, for the first time really since getting in the van. Her porcelain skin is ashen, nearly bloodless. She looks shell-shocked.

"Rose?"

She keeps her eyes glued on the road. I'm certain that she is carefully avoiding making eye contact with me. She swallows.

"What is it Rose?"

Rosalie still won't look at me.

"Did you see something...?" My voice is only a whisper. Rosalie turns to me finally. Her big blue eyes watery, just on the verge of tears. Her eyes flicker to back of the van. My eyes grow wide.

"Is he...?"

She nods once.

I let out a deep breath and sink in my seat. I close my eyes. We are silent the remainder of the trip home. Rosalie is unwilling or unable to talk. I'm grateful for the quiet, to have the luxury to just sit here and let silent tears of relief stream down my face. I drop my hand and touch the back wall of the van just behind my seat and feel the warm low rumble of the engine. He's just beyond this metal barrier. Now that I'm aware of his presence, it's all I can hear, him prowling the back of Mike's van. I don't know how I missed it earlier.

We are home. Rosalie parks the van in the garage behind our two-flat. She cuts off the engine but remains seated, eyes fixed on the steering wheel. I don't know what to say. I stare at my hands. Minutes go by without a sound, except for the occasional bump from behind us.

"Jesus fucking Christ," she says quietly.

We both jump at a loud bang coming from the back. She scrambles to unfasten her seat belt and announces, "I need to get the hell out of here. I need a drink." I stop first to take the U-Lock from my bike and lock the handles on the back of the van and lock the garage door behind me as well. Just to be safe. I'm reluctant to leave him, but I follow her back to the apartment anyway. I'm not keen on a repeat of earlier tonight.

Rosalie drops her purse and makes a beeline for the kitchen. She opens the fridge and curses again, surveying the absence of beer. "Emmett McCarty, you fucking drunk. I'm going to kill that fucker. After I break up with him."

She looks like she means it. "I've got a something in my room," I volunteer.

I return to the kitchen with a bottle of Edward's favorite whiskey. I haven't touched it since I found out he was in Chicago. She pours two glasses, sliding one to me and throwing the other one back in one gulp. She scrunches her nose in distaste, refilling her glass anyway.

"Are you okay Rose?"

She throws me this look, like I'm completely brain dead. This is an improvement over shell-shocked Rose. I'll take it.

"You can't tell anyone."

This merits an eyeroll. "And who the fuck would I tell? Nobody would believe me. I'd end up in the cuckoo's nest just like your boyfriend."

"I'm serious. Nobody. Not even Emmett."

She leans back in her chair, contemplating her glass. After some time, she decides, "No. I don't want to keep secrets from him. But you don't have to worry about Em. He can keep his mouth shut."

She raises her eyebrow, challenging me to protest. Rosalie won't budge on this, I'm sure. "Okay. But nobody else. What happened?"

"I was parked in the garage and I was trying to get back into the system when I hear the crash and see this guy falling. And you're up there, looking like you might jump, and the doctor holding you back. So I run out and he's on the ground not moving, but he's still breathing. And he looks...really weird? Like, sweaty and his veins were popping out, and his skin..." She takes a sip of her drink and winces. "...It was...moving? Like, there was something underneath it?"

I nod, urging her to continue.

"So I ask him what hurts, if anything's broken, but he's not answering. I call out his name and he finally opens his eyes but they're weird and cloudy, like he doesn't see me, like he has on white contacts or something? He just tells me to 'Run. Get the fuck away from me.' I didn't know what to do and those people were coming, so I dragged his ass to the van."

"Did you inject him?"

She looks down. "No...He started screaming, like, really loud. It was...his hands, they were..." she closes her eyes, shuddering delicately at the memory. "And his face?...Jesus Christ. I, I got really freaked out. So I just locked the door and drove off, looking for you. You know the rest."

"Thank you."

She still won't look at me. She traces the grain of the wood table top with a glossy black painted fingernail.

"It's all true, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Banner was wrong."

"Yes."

She covers her eyes with one hand. "I can't believe...Oh God B, the electricity thing, it was so stupid. You could have been trapped up there, I didn't think about the doors... he could have...Oh God, Oh God. Fuck!"

"Rose! Stop it! I'm fine." I take her hand. "It's okay now. I'm fine. You saved him. I couldn't have done it without you."

"He could have killed you! You were trapped with a fucking werewolf because of my big fucking ego. I just had to hack into the electrical system because, because... I'm so fucking vain and I knew I could!"

"If you hadn't done that, I would have never been able to get Edward out and who knows how many people would be dead. You saved him. And you saved who knows how many people from getting hurt tonight."

She shakes her head in disgust. "It doesn't matter. I put you in danger. If he hadn't..." her hand goes to her mouth in horror." She is crying now, really crying. Rosalie is so strong, unflappable normally. It sounds stupid, but I didn't know Rosalie Hale could cry. It's unsettling seeing her this broken down. I don't know how to react. Should I call Emmett? I wrap my arms around her, even though I know she probably hates it.

"Please Rose. Don't think about that. It didn't happen, it doesn't matter."

I'm surprised at my own behavior. I shouldn't be so calm right now. But I feel as if the worst has passed. I nearly lost Edward, again. But he's here now, and that's all that matters. Everything else, Banner, the hospital, my roommate, it's just noise, distracting me from my real life.

* * *

><p>I check the locks three times. Just in case. What I really want to do is stand vigil at the window and make sure nothing gets in or out of that garage. Instead I force myself to bed. Sleep is an impossibility, knowing he is so close.<p>

I drift in and out of consciousness, waking just before the dawn.

Last night feels like a hallucination, a druggy nightmare that I've been sharply pulled free from. Running breathless, the feel of his hand dragging me through the dark maze of hallways. The rush of adrenaline, the salt of my tears, the metallic sharpness of Edward's blood.

I thought I had lost him again. I told him I loved him and he didn't say it back.

It's too much to think about. Too much for my body to comprehend. I push it to the back of my mind. I'll have to face it soon enough. I wait until the sun has risen. I don my parka, tip-toeing down the stairs, so as to not wake the neighbors below us. I'm careful to not drag Rosalie's wooden baseball bat. I press my ear against the door to the garage, before unlocking it slowly. I can't hear anything coming from the van.

"Edward?"

It is as still and silent as a tomb. I knock lightly on the door of the van.

"Edward? Are you awake?"

Still no response. Not a single sound nor breath. I stick the key in the U-Lock, tugging it free of the handles. I can't get my fingers to work properly, I fumble with Mike's keys until I find the right one. I turn the key, hearing the locks click and pull the door open.

Edward is slumped face down on the floor of the van, unmoving, eyelids closed. He is naked; the hospital gown is bloody and has been torn to shreds. I call out his name again, but he doesn't seem to hear me. Ugly purple bruises bloom under his skin. I drop the bat I was holding and take his hand, shaking him lightly.

I climb inside, quickly checking his pulse. It's slow, but steady. On the floor by Edward's face, lie a few chewed up syringes.

I sink back on my heels, leaning against the wall of the van. I suppose it's good he got into the tranquilizers, to lessen the likelihood of our neighbors hearing something unusual. Edward is bloody and bruised and cut-up, but he's alive. And relatively intact, it seems. Not bad for someone who just fell through a window a few hours earlier. It does look like there was a massacre in the back of Mike's van. I'm going to have to clean it out with bleach before we give it back to him today. Or not. Maybe I'll just give it back to Mike Newton looking like a crime scene. That might make him think twice before asking me to "model" for him again.

I need to get Edward out of here, before the neighbors see him and call the police about the bloody naked man in their backyard. I can tell right now that dragging him to my apartment and up a couple flights of stairs is out of the question. I'm shocked that Rosalie was able to get him in the van. Fuck.

I shake him once more, to make sure he's out cold. I place a soft kiss on his temple before locking the van and going back inside.

"Damn girl, what are you doing up at the butt crack of dawn? Thought after the night you two had, I wouldn't see you until after three."

"Oh. Hi Emmett. What are you doing here?"

"Rosie drunk texted me last night. She was passed out cold by the time I got here."

"Oh."

"You're awfully articulate this morning, Swan."

"Yeah, well...So you haven't talked to her yet?"

"No. I told you she was passed out. Now what's this I hear about you buying Special K from Mike Newton?"

Emmett is far too awake for this ungodly hour. "It's a long story Em."

"Nice try dude. What the hell are you doing hanging out with Newton?"

"He's your friend. I wasn't hanging out with him. How'd you hear about it anyway?"

Emmett shrugs. "Newton told me. I grew up with him. He sucks but what am I gonna do? Special K Swan? Really?"

"...It wasn't for me?"

Emmett looks skeptical. He might look a bit like a meathead frat boy, but Emmett McCarty is no dummy. "You okay Bella?"

I study his face. There is no judgement there, only concern. If he doesn't know yet, he will, I'm sure of it. I just regret pulling yet another unsuspecting person into my drama.

"No. Actually. I need your help."

"What's wrong?"

I think of things to say, but my story sounds too fantastical to be believed, even if it's the truth.

"I'll show you."

Emmett looks a bit disturbed, but he follows me anyway.

"Is this Newton's van?"

I nod. Before I unlock the doors, I pause.

"Promise me you won't freak out?"

"You're scaring me dude."

"It's looks a lot worse than it actually is. And it's not what you think. Just...please, reserve judgement until you hear me out?"

For a moment, he looks like he wants to walk away. He nods for me to open he doors. With a deep breath, I open the van doors, revealing Edward's battered body. Emmett stares, aghast, taking in the blood, the rope and duct tape.

"Who the fuck is that? Is he dead?"

"No. He's passed out. Please don't make a scene, I don't want to wake the neighbors."

"Jesus Christ Swan. Who is that?"

"It's Edward."

"Edward? Your ex Edward? As in Edgar Edward?"

"Yes. And it's just 'Edward'."

"I get that you're hurting girl...but, you know, kidnapping and...beating and drugging your ex is not a good foundation to build a real relationship upon."

"I know. It's not what it looks like, I swear. I'll explain everything. I just need your help to get him back inside, before the neighbors wake up."

He shakes his head in disbelief. His eye falls to Rosalie's baseball bat, still in the same place I had abandoned it earlier. Nonetheless, Emmett climbs inside the van.

"What happened to his clothes?"

I point to the bloody shreds that remain of Edward's hospital gown.

"Fuck. This is fucking crazy town."

"That's what Rosalie said."

"Rosie helped you kidnap him? My Rosie?"

"How do you think he got in the van?"

I wave Rosalie's gold handcuffs in front of him. If it is at all possible, Emmett appears even more disturbed than he did a few minutes earlier. He grabs them from me, stuffing them in his back pocket. He seems to shake off any remaining reservations, setting his mouth into a thin determined line.

"Okay Swan, let's do this."

Emmett slings Edward's body over his shoulder, holding him by the legs. He grimaces.

"_Ew...gross_. His junk is touching my arm."

I adjust Edward. "Better? Now his junk is touching your nipples."

"You owe me Swan."

"I know. Come on Emmett. Let's get him inside."


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

I close the door quietly. I don't know why I bother, Edward is out cold. He won't be conscious for hours it seems. I've got Edward drugged up in my bedroom, my roommate passed out in another, and Emmett McCarty in the kitchen waiting for me to give him a good enough reason not to call the cops.

Time to face the music.

Emmett looks ready to pounce. Before he can get a word out, I cut him off.

"I'm not even going to think about having this conversation until I've had my coffee."

"Fair enough."

I take my time. I don't like the expression on his face. I don't know if I should even bother composing an explanation. It looks as if he has already made up his mind. I stare at my mug, praying that the absolute perfect thing to say will miraculously appear at the bottom of my cup, if I just look hard enough. Edward's condition, it's not my secret to tell. I hate exposing him like this, the one thing he seems to treasure most is his privacy and I can't even allow him that. I've already betrayed him, so many times, but I couldn't find a way out of it. If I don't tell Emmett, Rosalie will sooner rather than later.

Finally, I sit down at the table. "I don't know where to begin."

"How about you start at the part where you and my girlfriend kidnapped and beat-up your ex?"

"It's not what it looks like Em."

"Okay. Then please explain to me what it was I was looking at. I want to believe you, I do. But...honestly Swan, I've been thinking about this non-stop since you made me an accomplice in your psycho ex-girlfriend revenge fantasy and...I'm trying to find another angle on this and coming up empty."

This is impossible. I'm so tired of lying, of speaking in half-truths. I don't know if it's nerves, the lack of sleep, or the sudden jolt of caffeine in my system that compels me to mumble, "Edward's a werewolf."

He stares at me for a minute, and then he nods, surprisingly nonchalant. "Oh yeah? My uncle's a werewolf too."

I look up quickly. "Really?"

"Yeah, yeah. And he's got a sweet time machine. You might have heard of him. His name is Michael J. Fox."

"Fuck off Emmett."

I can see why Edward has stayed in the closet for so long. No one would believe him. It was idiotic to open with the truth anyway. I glare at Emmett, when really I should be thanking him for buying me a little time to think.

"You trust Rose?"

"Of course." he replies without hesitation. I think he is slightly affronted that I even asked.

"So do I. The main thing you need to understand is that she thought helping me was the right thing to do. I really couldn't have done any of it without her. So...just keep that in mind please."

"I'll try."

"Edward was in trouble. This guy was holding him against his will and we had to get him out."

Emmett nods. "Okay. Where was he?"

"Holy Cross."

"Why didn't you just call the police?"

"They would never have believed me. I mean, I didn't want to bust him out. It's crazy, I know. I know how crazy it sounds. And I'm the absolute last person on Earth that should be allowed to do this sort of thing. I tried to think of any other way to free him, and this was seriously our only option."

"Did you beat him up?"

"No, of course not...He jumped through a window."

"Jesus." Emmett looks deep in thought. "What's up with the drugs then? You threw him in the back of the van and shot him full of animal tranquilizers? That your idea of foreplay?"

I've got no easy answer to this. "I didn't shoot him up...He ate them."

I think up until this point, Emmett has been buying my story. This last revelation however, gives him pause. "He ate them?"

"Yes. He...chewed up the syringes and knocked himself out?"

"Dude, that's weird. Why the hell would he do that?"

"He was...not himself?"

"What happened to his clothes?"

"He tore them to shreds?" I offer sheepishly. This is just pathetic. My flimsy excuses sound like an elaborate, poorly constructed lie, even to my ears. I am doing an awful job of convincing Emmett that I am not just making this stuff up.

Emmett sits back in his chair, mulling over my explanation. His eyes flicker to my face, studying me carefully. I squirm under his scrutiny, feeling the weight of my presumed guilt. I'm feeling terribly self-conscious, hyper aware of my every move. I feel as if everything I do screams "guilty, guilty guilty". He says nothing as I stand to refill my cup, adding a heavy splash of cream to my coffee.

"Swan, that makes no sense at all. You aren't telling me everything," he says evenly.

"I swear Emmett, everything I've told you is true."

He shakes his head, growing increasingly frustrated. I can see the struggle to maintain a calm facade on his face. It is obvious Emmett is just barely keeping his temper in check. "I just carried a bloody, naked, unconscious dude into my girlfriend's apartment. You had him fucking locked up in the back of Newton's van. All the alarm bells were going off, but I trusted you. I helped you because I'm your friend, and you swore that you would give me a reason why aiding and abetting you was a good idea. I think I deserve an honest explanation. No more bullshit excuses Bella."

I can't. There's nothing more I can say, he won't believe me. "It's the truth..." I say weakly. I'm almost afraid to look at him. He is silent. I raise my eyes to look at him and Emmett is livid.

"What about the rope? The duct tape? The handcuffs? The fucking baseball bat on the floor?" he demands, his voice rising in intensity. "Why the hell did you need animal tranquilizers? How the fuck did you get my girlfriend involved with your crazy shit?"

He hits the table in frustration. I startle at the sound. I've never seen Emmett this riled up ever. It scares me. I wish I could convince him that I was telling the truth. I think I took for granted how easily Rosalie accepted my story. Emmett's face is killing me. He's angry because he thinks I'm lying to him, and underneath that, deeply hurt. I didn't think it would be so difficult to explain this to Emmett, of all people. He's the most easy going person I've ever met. I thought for sure Rosalie would be my toughest critic. I want to disappear, hole up in my room with Edward so I can escape Emmett's hostility.

"Jesus fucking Christ. Why the fuck are you people so loud?"

Rosalie shuffles into the kitchen, still dressed in yesterday's clothes, her eyeliner and mascara smudged in dark shadows under her eyes giving her a bit of a ghoulish look. Her lids are barely open, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Emmett is still seething and I'm on the other side of the room trying to make myself as small as possible. She drifts over to the coffee pot, pouring herself a mug, and then walks over to Emmett, absentmindedly patting him on the head.

"Hey baby, when did you get here?"

"Last night. You drunk texted me."

"I did?" She sits down on Emmett's lap, unaware of the strained atmosphere in the room. "Sorry dude," she says, kissing him on the nose. "Now what the hell were you two screaming about?"

Emmett reaches into his back pocket, fishing out the gold handcuffs. He drops them casually on the kitchen table. Rosalie stares at them for a full minute before looking back up at me. I meet her eyes and nod. She makes a face before covering her face in her hands.

"Ah fuck me. I thought it was a nightmare." She peeks between her fingers at Emmett, who has cooled down somewhat. Turning toward me, she asks, "Where is he? Where's Edward?"

"In my room."

"Is he okay? Is he...? She makes a few gestures at her face that are supposed to connote 'wolf', I think.

"No. He's back to normal now. He got into the tranquilizers last night. He's still passed out."

"How'd you get him inside?" she asks.

I nod towards Emmett. Rosalie turns her head to look at her boyfriend.

"You want to tell me what the fuck is going on?" Emmett asks.

"What did Bella say?"

"Some crazy story about Edward being a werewolf and then you two busting him out of the hospital."

Rose looks at me, and then back at Emmett. She gives him a wry smile, shrugging. "Yup. It's all true. Edward's a werewolf. That's the big reveal. Werewolves are fucking real dude."

Emmett is appalled. "You too? Is anyone going to tell me the truth? This is...fucking unbelievable!" he spits out. He moves her off his lap, storming out of the apartment and slamming the door with a loud bang.

Rosalie is nonplussed. She sits down in Emmett's vacated seat and sips her coffee.

"We should go after him."

"He'll come back. He can't get too far without any shoes on."

"I feel really bad. I'm sorry," I say.

"Don't. He just needs some time to stew. I'll show him Banner's files later. And your wolfman will confirm the story when he wakes up. He'll come around. It's a lot to process, you know?"

"Yeah. I do." I feel as if I haven't even begun to understand any of it, and I've had months to live with this knowledge.

"How are you so calm?"

She shrugs. "I think I did all my freaking out last night. It's done." She smiles grimly. "Besides, we've got other things to worry about now."

* * *

><p>Edward is still asleep when I peek in on him.<p>

It's too much. Last night, the past twenty-four hours. I need to do something, anything to turn off my brain, so don't have to think anymore. I need to get Edward some clothes. I need to figure out how to get him some medical attention. Mend things between me and Emmett. Clean the crime scene in the back of Mike's van. That nurse Angela knows exactly who I am. The police are probably looking for us right this moment. They've probably traced his plates by now and are on their way here to arrest me. Do we keep running? We can't go back to his cabin, Banner knows where he lives. That would be the first place the cops would look.

I drift towards the bed.

I wrap myself around Edward's body. Even in sleep he doesn't look serene. As if he anticipates all the troubles that await him when he wakes. I thought saving him was the hardest part, but I was wrong. I got him here. He's alive. So what happens now?

I keep replaying the exact moment last night when I told him I loved him. And he didn't say it back. If there ever was a moment to tell someone you loved them, right before you tried to kill yourself would seem like a good time to do it.

But he didn't say it back. Edward just looked at me, like I had just stabbed him in the chest. There are many ways I can interpret his reaction, but ultimately the reality is always the same. I get my heart broken every time. You'd think I'd be used to it by now.

I empty my head, let the fear, the stress, the worry, the hurt, fall away. I keep my hand on his chest, listen to the steady rise and fall of his breath, the beating of his heart. I hold on to him for a little longer. I close my eyes and let myself sink into sleep. I hope when I wake he'll still be here.


	24. Chapter 24

CHAPTER 24

I will have to wake up eventually.

My bedroom is cloaked in near darkness, only a few weak shafts of sunlight escape the closed blinds on my window. I don't remember shutting them. I don't have to feel the cool sheets, the empty place beside me to know I'm alone in my bed. I check my phone. It is just after nine. I've been asleep for three hours.

Rosalie should be fully awake by now, probably doing sun salutes in the living room, shitty pop music playing in the background. Emmett would be making breakfast, or possibly gone back to sleep. He always gets up early on the weekends but invariably migrates to the couch for a mid morning nap. Edward would...I don't know where Edward fits into this tableau. He'd probably be glowering in a corner, looking unreasonably attractive.

I listen for sounds of life, voices, anything. I listen for him. My footfalls are too loud. I swear the wooden floor was never this creaky, but the apartment had never felt this empty before either. There is no sign of Rosalie nor Emmett. No Edward either. I can't escape the thought in the back of my mind, the niggling fear that he has left me again. It would be all too in character for Edward to disappear without a word. I shouldn't be surprised, but I am.

Maybe he's just very very quiet. I stare at the thin light at the base of the closed bathroom door, wondering who will emerge from behind it. My roommate or Edward? The door opens. I feel a wave of hot steam wash over me, the warm scent of sandalwood and jasmine. Edward is damp from the shower, with a my faded pink bath towel wrapped around his waist. He looks as surprised as I feel. I take a moment to catalog his injuries, the scars familiar and new. Purple blooms stain his skin. His body is covered in a million small cuts from when he fell through the glass. Considering what he just went through, he is remarkably unscathed. Most of those wounds will be gone in a few days time.

We stare at one another for a while, it could be minutes, seconds, hours. I don't know. I don't care. I move without thought, launching myself at Edward, a strangled cry escaping my throat. I cling to him, pressing my cheek against his chest, wrapping my arms around his waist. I hold him so tightly, digging my fingers into his sides.

It takes me a long time to calm down. I notice him wincing in pain and release my grip. Stupid Bella, he just fell out of a building. Right. When I can breathe normally again, I raise my eyes to look at his face and the tears fall all over again.

"Bella...Bella... don't cry..." he pleads.

He holds my face in his hands, sweeping the tears away with his fingertips. He handles me delicately, as if I was made of something fragile that he is afraid to crush in his big hands.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

I want to laugh. He's the one that fell through a window. "No. Yes. I'm fine. Everything's fine now. All that matters is that you're safe, you're here now."

He traces the curve of my cheekbone, his knuckles just barely skimming the surface of my skin. I kiss his fingertips, stilling their motion. His eyes drop to my lips. I need to feel him, I need him as close as he will let me have him. I want him to show me that this is real, that it's not all in my head. I close my eyes.

He doesn't kiss me. Why won't he kiss me? I open my eyes and I don't like the way Edward is looking at me. No. No. This is not how our reunion is supposed to go. This is the part where we kiss. Where he tells me he loves me. I've seen this face before, this is the one he wears when he is going to break my heart. I think he is choosing his words carefully. I can guess what he's about to say and I can't stand the thought of him saying it.

"Were you just going to leave without saying goodbye?"

I don't need him to confirm it. The look in his eyes tells all. I've been down this road before with him. Too many times. And the worst part, the worst part is he believes he is doing me a favor.

"No way. No fucking way Edward. _ Are you fucking kidding me? After what happened last night? You're still pulling this suffer in silence martyr bullshit?_" I curl my fists tightly, my nails digging into the palms of my hands. I could kill him right now. I hate him. I hate Edward Cullen.

"_Don't you get it? You aren't allowed to make these unilateral decisions. Not anymore. We...we could have died last night! I can't...after all the...blood and the hospital and the baby and you falling through the window...We could go to jail! Jesus Christ, we could still go jail!" _I hate that I can't get angry without crying. I'm not making the most sense and I'm pretty much screaming at him and Edward just takes it, shocked that I have a backbone apparently.

"_And now Mike's van looks like a crime scene, there's fucking blood everywhere and he's coming by to pick it up today. Fuck Fuck. I've got to clean, I've got to bleach everything before he gets here or he's gonna call the cops." _

My words come out garbled, between deep shuddering sobs that shake my entire body. I can't see anymore with the stream of tears falling down my face. I hit him as hard as I can and he lets me. I try to squirm free from his grasp. I need to go. I'm certain the cops are looking for us right now. They're probably looking for his van. I need to pour bleach all over Mike's van. No, fuck what am I thinking. They have his plates, Mike has told them everything, the cops are probably on their way here now. Edward presses me to his body, he wraps his arms around me, even though I continue to pound him with my fists.

Moving more quickly than I would have thought possible, Edward throws my body behind him. He holds me back with one hand, putting himself between me and the immediate threat at the front door, poised to attack. They're here. The police, come to take him away. It takes me a moment to find my balance. I peek behind Edward to see my Rosalie and Emmett in the open doorway. They gawk openly for a few seconds, mouths ajar, eyes darting between Edward's hostile half-naked form and my red tear-stained face.

"You okay B?" she asks carefully.

I nod. "Edward, this is Rosalie. My roommate. And her boyfriend, Emmett."

No one else says a word. Rosalie hasn't moved from her place at the door and is still eyeing Edward like he could pounce on her at any given moment. To be fair, he does look a little scary right now. The silence has moved beyond awkward. Most men would cower under my roommate's ice queen stare. You wouldn't have known she had been nursing a hangover just this morning. Dressed in black and nothing on her face save for a swipe of red lipstick, Rosalie Hale is beautiful and terrifying. I'm rarely ever jealous of Rose, but the thought comes unbidden. I wonder if Edward finds her beautiful. Of course he does. He'd have to be blind not to. I am aware of the absurdity of this situation. This should be the absolute least of my concerns.

Edward eyes her cooly. Rosalie meets his gaze, arms crossed, suddenly haughty. Oh no. This is not how I had anticipated their first meeting would happen. Her hackles are up, ready to attack. I'm determined to intervene, before this escalates further. Thankfully, I don't have to. Something happens, an almost imperceptible click of recognition in Edward's eyes. I feel him relax his grip on my body.

"Thank you, for last night," he says softly. There is not a trace of sarcasm nor arrogance in his voice, just quiet gratitude.

Rosalie is a little taken aback, although it seems she finds this response acceptable. "I did it for her," she shrugs, nodding her head in my direction. "You should be thanking Bella. I was anti busting you out, full disclosure." I suppose this was the best introduction I could have hoped for with these two.

Conversation over, she walks to me, pulling me into the kitchen.

Lowering her voice, she asks "Bella, seriously, are you okay? You look like hell girl. He didn't do anything to hurt you did he? Because if he did I will fucking kill him myself."

I should tell her that he can still hear us, supernatural senses and all. But I doubt this is the time for that conversation.

"I'm okay. Just a little emotional. It's been a rough twenty-four hours."

She raises an eyebrow. "Understatement of the year dude."

"I'm just freaking out, the cops and Mike's van, you know? I don't know how I'm going to get rid of that thing. I don't know if it matters now, I mean, if they got his plates. They could be here any minute. I think we need to get out here."

"Whoa hold on there. That's the other thing I wanted to tell you. While you and Edgar were spooning or whatever, I was looking into our impending trouble with law enforcement. So...I haven't heard a peep. You'd think it would be all over the news, escaped mental patient, suicide, no body, werewolf problems, etc. But nothing. I think the hospital is keeping the whole thing under wraps. They can't afford a scandal right now, not with that multi-million dollar renovation. I mean, seriously, that would be pretty bad press you know? All those fancy North Shore bitches would be taking their business elsewhere. I think If we lay low for a few days we'll be fine."

"You're kidding?"

"Nope. I'll keep an eye on the situation, but it looks like the hospital wants to keep this an internal matter. I'd hold off on burning your fingerprints with acid, for the time being anyway. I'll let you know."

I'm not entirely convinced we are in the clear. Angela knows exactly who I am and there's still Banner to deal with. Still I'm so relieved, I don't know what else to say, I just hug her.

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me. I didn't do anything."

"Yes you did. Just shut up and say 'You're welcome'."

She smirks at me. "You're welcome. Bitch."

* * *

><p>I find Edward alone in the living room. "Come on, let's find you something to wear," I say.<p>

A few minutes rifling through my closet nets absolutely nothing that might fit him, an unforeseen side effect of getting rid of the majority of my worldly possessions. Edward looks like he wants to talk. A first for him, I think. Whatever he has to say can't be good. I'm acutely aware of the fact that I said more than I had intended to, during my emotional outburst just moments earlier. Things that I wasn't quite ready to tell him yet. I'm doing my best to avoid his eyes, bustling around my room looking for some men's clothes that I know don't exist. To his credit, I think he senses this and lets me hide for a bit. He always knows somehow.

Edward drifts around my room, looking at the few things I did keep and some of my more recent acquisitions. It feels surreal, having Edward Cullen in my apartment, in my bedroom. I've thought about him more than I probably should and now he's here in the flesh. He seems too tall, too outsized for this room. His presence feels paradoxically alien and yet like the most natural thing in the world at the same time.

I'm surprised at how nervous I am. He's seen me naked, more than naked. This is the place I've made for myself, unedited. I explain what Rosalie has just told me about the police situation, even though he probably knows all of this already. He reads the titles on my bookshelf, a few favorites that I couldn't bear to leave behind. He spends a long time looking at something on my dresser. It takes me a moment to realize he's examining a sepia toned photo booth picture Rose tricked me into taking with Tyler, before I pulled the biological clock schtick on him. I don't know why I kept that. I think I was using it as a bookmark.

When I finally find the nerve to face him, Edward is looking at his flannel shirt hanging on the back of my door. His eyes turn back to me. I rush over, pulling it off the peg and handing it to him.

"I accidentally packed it. It's yours. I'm sorry, I haven't washed it or anything. I could throw it in the laundry..." My face is flushed. I'm pretty sure he knew already, but here is concrete proof of just how much of a pathetic loser I am.

"I'm sorry Bella. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay Edward."

"No. It's not okay."

I cut him off before he can turn his apology into another reason why he has to leave me again. "I know you made me swear to not call your father, but I...time was running out and I thought, I thought maybe he could get you released. And...I told Rose and Emmett...everything. They know you're a werewolf. I'm sorry. I didn't know what else to do. Em doesn't believe me yet, maybe he does. Rose didn't believe me at first either but she saw you turn, well, you know this. And...Carlisle's in Brussels right now with Esme for a conference but he's coming back early. I talked to him last night after we got you out. They're coming back to Chicago early, tomorrow I think. He wants to see you. I'm sorry. I know I promised but it felt like there wasn't any other choice. I'm sorry Edward."

His eyes drop to the floor, his lips pressed in a hard thin line. I watch his face as he absorbs this new information, struggle to keep his expression neutral. I know it must be killing him, the fact that I had pretty much placed his life into the hands of complete strangers. I can' t imagine how vulnerable, how exposed he must feel.

"I'm sorry," I repeat. I can't say it enough.

Edward takes my hand, entwining his fingers through my own.

"Bella. Please don't apologize. Thank you. You saved my life."


	25. Chapter 25

_His eyes drop to the floor, his lips pressed in a hard thin line. I watch his face as he absorbs this new information, struggle to keep his expression neutral. I know it must be killing him, the fact that I had pretty much placed his life into the hands of complete strangers. I can't imagine how vulnerable, how exposed he must feel._

_"I'm sorry," I repeat. I can't say it enough._

_Edward takes my hand, entwining his fingers through my own._

_"Bella. Please don't apologize. Thank you. You saved my life."_

"So...you're not mad?" I ask.

He still can't look at me. I watch his face, searching for some kind of recognizable emotion behind the mask, but I can't decipher him.

After a beat, he answers,"No."

"You are mad."

"I'm not."

I can't stand these silences anymore. I'm sick of trying to guess what he's not saying.

"I don't believe you." I grab his face in my hands, lifting his chin and forcing him to meet my eyes. "This suffer in silence thing has got to stop Edward. I can't read your mind. That's how people get hurt."

I meant to be gently chiding. I regret the words almost as soon as I utter them. He immediately grasps the darker meaning, one that I had not intended. Of course he would. "That's not what I meant–" I start.

"I'm sorry. I'll never stop being sorry. I could never be angry with you. Ever."

"Then tell me what's going through that head of yours."

"I just need some time. To get used to other people knowing about me."

"You don't need to worry about Rose. And Emmett...well, he's kind of implicated in this now." Poor Emmett. I don't know what Rose has told him, but he seems to have calmed down a bit. "I know you don't like talking about being a...your condition, but I wonder if you wouldn't mind answering a few questions, if he asks? He might be under the impression that you're like...my hostage?"

My words give him pause, but he finally nods. "Okay."

We are interrupted by a loud knock on the door. I open it to find my roommate on the other side clutching some clothing in her hands, eyes closed tightly.

"Are you decent? I didn't want to walk in on you two doing it."

We are so far from having sex it's not even funny. I don't even know how we are going to get back to that place, if it is even possible.

"You can open your eyes."

She opens one eye, quickly giving me the once over. I think she has invented a reason to come in, so she can check on me. Satisfied that I am unharmed her eyes slide over to Edward who is now staring at the floor.

"Here," she says, shoving the pile into my hands. "They're Em's clothes. He's bigger than Edgar but they should fit."

"Thanks Rose." I grin. I'm touched, really. She deliberately got his name wrong and she won't address him, but this is the Rosalie Hale equivalent of putting out the welcome wagon. I'll take it.

"So...there's no food in the house and we're going to pass out if we don't eat like, within the next hour. We were thinking about getting brunch. You want to come? Mimosas, blueberry blisscakes, maybe we could get to know your bf better?" She nudges me with her hip in encouragement.

I look to Edward, but he's still studying my floorboards. I'm torn. He doesn't want to go to brunch, I'm sure of it, but he would never say so. I can see him wanting to avoid the crowds, the strollers, the '_maybe we could get to know your bf better_'. I like how she casually threw that in with the blisscakes. I wonder how he feels about the 'bf' part.

Rosalie is still waiting for an answer. He doesn't want to go, I don't know if I'm in the mood either, but my roommate just made this really nice gesture...and Edward does looks like he needs to eat.

"When are you leaving?" I ask.

"In five?"

"Okay, we'll meet you downstairs."

After she leaves, I turn back to him apologetic. "I hope that's okay? I couldn't really say no."

"It's fine."

"Here." I hand him Emmett's clothes. He takes the clothes from me and we both freeze. Suddenly shy, I don't know whether I should turn around or leave the room so he can change in privacy. A few months ago he wouldn't have hesitated to drop that pink towel.

I don't know how to act around him anymore. Is he my boyfriend? It feels like too small a word for how I feel about him. Boyfriend. I can't see Edward Cullen being anyone's boyfriend, much less mine. He told me as much, early into our relationship. So much has happened since then though, so much has changed. I don't know what to think.

I wonder if the same thoughts are running through his mind. He turns his back to me without a word. I face away from him, but I can still see his body reflected in the mirror on the back of my door. What I see makes my heart ache. I watch the muscles of his back move, the faded scars, shiny and pink stretched over too prominent ribs. I need to get some food in him. It is quiet save for the sound of clothes rustling, a zipper being zipped. When he is done, I turn back. He's wearing his own shirt, but it hangs loosely on his body, as do Emmett's jeans.

I guess I should change out of my night clothes as well. I want to be able to slip off my gown without thinking, I want it to be normal. To not have to second guess every word, every movement, like tiptoeing around so many emotional landmines.

"Bella? What baby?"

I think I've only imagined his voice, but there it is. The question I was dreading. I thought perhaps it had slipped past him, lost in my angry tangled rant earlier. But Edward misses nothing. He always knows. I would have told him. Eventually. If I hadn't I'm sure Rosalie would have bullied me into it. Or just come out with it herself, in her inimitably blunt manner. I just didn't expect to have to tell him so soon. I thought maybe he'd kiss me first at least, that's how these reunions are supposed to go right?

I should say something soon. He's waiting for me to speak. His face is ashen. Fear? Dread? I place my hand over his heart, knowing I will feel it beating out a frantic staccato rhythm.

"Bella?"

I don't know how to say this. How do I tell him? It doesn't matter how I say it, this knowledge can only hurt Edward.

I've had a few weeks to live with this. I hadn't admitted it to anyone, and it took me a long time to admit to myself that what I felt most of all was...relief. I felt guilty. This was not how I was supposed to feel. It would have been different, if I had wanted to get pregnant. But I was not ready for a baby. I don't know if I ever will be. How do I tell him? Make him understand. I'm taking too long to answer. I'm still feeling his heart go _thump thump thump_. He covers my hand with his own.

"Bella? Are you...pregnant?" It comes out so quietly, almost a whisper, but he may as well have screamed the words. It feels as if a bomb has just just detonated in my room.

I slowly shake my head. I can't speak. I know if I do, my voice will break and I won't be able to stop the tears. I can't look at him so I close my eyes. He's so near, I can feel his breath on my cheek.

"Were you?"

I nod once. I hear the soft gasp, and then his arms folding around me, cocooning me. As if by doing so, keeping me close, he can shelter me from my pain, and all of the ills unleashed upon the world. I am limp in his embrace, sinking into him. We fumble, we fold, we wall to the ground, and we cling to each other.

He murmurs that he's sorry, over and over again in my ear, never letting go. "Oh God...I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I left you all alone...I'm so sorry..." he whispers.

"I wasn't alone. Esme and Carlisle took care of me. And I had Rose and Em. It's okay..." I say weakly, but my voice sounds small and unconvincing.

I've been too afraid to lift my gaze, but I do so now. His face looks the way it did the morning I discovered his secret. It looks the way it did at the hospital when we thought one of us would be dead by morning.

"It's not okay."

"You didn't know. It...it was an accident. It's no one's fault."

He shakes his head, eyes glassy. "Bella, you need to stop."

"Stop what?"

"Forgiving me. I've done nothing but cause you pain, over and over and over, since I've known you. I..." he pulls at his hair. "...I nearly killed you last night. And now this..." His eyes drop to my abdomen. You keep on forgiving me. Why? What do I have to do Bella? Tell me. Tell me," he pleads, his voice pained. Urgent. He grasps both my hands, a prayer. His grip on me is so tight, it is almost painful. He wants me to hate him. I think it would make things easier on Edward, justify the self-loathing he's been carefully cultivating for the last two decades. I can't hate him.

"You can't...you can't ask me that."

"You can't keep forgiving me Bella. I don't deserve it."

It's so quiet now. I hear the front door slam and Rosalie and Emmett's voices floating up to my window. Edward speaks with such certainty. If he could just let me love him, let himself be loved. Believe he was worth loving. Our lives feel like an eternal loop, doomed to repeat the same actions, the same heartfail over and over again. Something has gone awry, some defect in our dna that makes it impossible to find happiness with each other. If I let things go on as they have, let events take their natural course, I see no future for us.

He's still holding me. It feels nice in his arms, but I'm afraid if he lets go of me it will be goodbye. For the last time. I extricate myself from his embrace, standing. He kneels before me. Edward wraps his arms around my waist, pressing his face to my abdomen. He closes his eyes, his lashes as dark and heavy as I remembered and kisses my belly softly. I run my fingers along his jawline, feeling the familiar roughness of his beard.

"You're wrong. You do deserve it. I forgive you Edward. I love you. I almost lost you once, I'm not letting go this time."


	26. Chapter 26

**_AN: Anyone still reading...? _**

**_Previously: Bella and Rosalie have helped Edward escape from the hospital. Bella has told Edward about the miscarriage, Rosalie has told Emmett Edward's a werewolf, and Mike's bloody van is still in the garage. _**

Brunch was a terrible idea. We waited, for what felt like a year, and maybe three months. For blisscakes.

I don't give a damn about the blisscakes–or for that matter, Rosalie and Emmett. They both seem to have forgotten how to behave like normal human beings. It's a strange delicate dance we are performing, talking but not saying much. Willfully ignoring the giant, unavoidable, undeniable elephant in the room. Emmett is more quiet than I ever could have thought possible, stealing surreptitious looks at Edward. Rosalie doesn't even try to hide the fact that she is openly examining him. Probably waiting for him to sprout fangs or something.

All I want is to be alone with Edward. He's sitting right next to me, silent as always. I'm trying my best not to stare and failing. I can't stop looking at him. He seems unsubstantial, an Edward-shaped shadow, liable to dissolve into nothing if I turn the wrong way. I want to feel him solid and warm in my hands, prove to myself that I did not hallucinate him. He looks odd and uncomfortable in Emmett's borrowed clothing,they hang limply on his too thin frame.

Edward pretends not to feel the eyes upon him, gaze locked firmly on his plate. He's eating slowly, even though I can tell he's famished and is holding back, probably not wanting to draw more attention to himself. I order an extra plate of chocolate chip pancakes, the most calorie rich item on the menu, with the intention of passing them on to Edward later.

Rosalie showed Emmett Banner's files. I'm not sure how much he read, or what he makes of the whole story and I haven't asked. At least he doesn't appear to be angry with me anymore. I don't think until I was at risk of losing it, I realized how much his friendship meant to me. I catch his eye across the table and he waggles his eyebrows at me lasciviously. He makes me laugh, even though I can tell his heart's not in it. Still, I'm grateful for this bit of normalcy. Edward doesn't miss this exchange. He glances between me and Emmett.

"So," Rosalie begins, "Edward... I hear you're a..."

_Please don't start with the werewolf stuff, please don't start with the werewolf stuff_, I plead silently to my roommate. The panic must show in my face, because I receive a single arched eyebrow in response.

"...Chicago native," she finishes.

He looks up, surprised to be spoken to. He nods.

"Yeah? What high school did you go to?"

"Sacred Heart."

"Really? I wonder if we were there at the same time? How old are you anyway?" I feel a little kick under the table that I think was intended for Rose.. She shrugs Emmett off. "He doesn't care."

"Thirty-three. I only went for part of freshman year. I was homeschooled."

I never knew how old he was. Or the fact that he was homeschooled. They are such small details, inconsequential really, but another thing I don't know about him. Other than what I read in Banner's file and the little he has revealed to me, Edward's past remains largely a mystery to me.

Rosalie begins to make a face but catches herself just in time. "Why? Your parents religious or something? Esme doesn't strike me as the homeschooling type."

"She's not my mother. She married Carlisle when I was seventeen."

"Hmmm. Interesting." Already bored, Rosalie leans toward Emmett, stealing a few plantains off his plate and popping them in her mouth.

"Something you want to ask babe?" she asks.

"Huh?"

"Edward. Werewolf?"

Edward freezes, fork in mid-air. Rosalie leans back in her seat, sipping her mimosa demurely.

"I think we can all agree that this is weird, right? Let's just get this over with."

"C'mon Rose. Do we really have to do this here?" I plead.

"Yes. We do. Bella, you've already had us break a few laws for you. There's a bloody van sitting in my garage. I think we deserve some answers."

He looks to me, helpless. He wants to run, I know it. I give him a smile that is meant to be reassuring.

Edward pushes his fork around, staring at the half eaten food on his plate. Without raising his gaze, he mumbles, "What do you want to know?"

"Rosie's been telling me, about the hospital and the...She showed me the doctor's files..." He starts to laugh. "I mean, it's insane right?" Emmett shakes his head in disbelief, "I can't believe I'm asking you this, but the..you actually being a...werewolf. Is it true?"

I think we all hold a collective breath as we await Edward's response.

He nods. Edward just stares at him, looking almost defiant. Not even a hint of a smile on his gaunt face. We all watch as Emmett takes in this confirmation. He doesn't take his eyes away from Edward, waiting for us to start laughing, for the hidden camera crew to emerge from behind the espresso bar. He takes a few minutes to process this, brow furrowing, eyes narrowing, before breaking into a wide, toothy smile.

"Wow. No fucking way." He begins to laugh, a loud booming sound. The neighboring tables turn to gawk at the noise.

Edward looks to me for explanation, but I can only shrug in response.

Emmett is still shaking his head. "You guys are fucking crazy."

"He's not lying babe."

"Rosie!" He laughs. "You took the Special K didn't you? What else did you take last night?"

"Nothing Em. I don't do drugs anymore, and I'm not going to start now. We didn't take anything...Except for Edward, he ate all those syringes." Rosalie adds.

Emmett moves as if he's about to stand, and then sits back down. He leans back in his chair, looking at each one of us in turn. He knows Rosalie isn't lying, she doesn't do drugs, not even pot, and she wouldn't lie about that. But the werewolf business, that's too much to swallow.

"Rose, I'm not the crazy one here."

"I know, I know baby."

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Nothing. I know you can't believe us. We'll just have to...wait till the next full moon or something. And then you can see with your own two eyes."

Edward looks up sharply.

"No."

"Come on Edward. How else am I supposed to prove to him..."

"I don't care. I don't give a shit if he believes or not."

Rose is now glaring at Edward, his face stony.

"You guys," I interject, "it doesn't matter. It's done Emmett. You don't have to believe us. You don't have to...thank you for helping me, us, but you don't have to be involved anymore."

Emmett regards me, his mouth a thin, unyielding line.

"It's too late for that Swan."

"I'm sorry." My voice is so small.

He downs his Michelada in one long gulp. The rest of the table is silent, we stare at our food, finish our drinks. Emmett signals the waiter for another round. I take one bite of the chocolate chip pancakes. They are obscenely rich, but I figure Edward could use the calories. I push the plate toward Edward. "I'm so full. Do you want to help me finish these?" I ask. He nods.

As he takes his first bite, Rose asks, dryly, "Is he even allowed to eat chocolate?"

"Rose!" I hiss.

"My nana's pomeranian got into the Halloween candy one time and they had to rush him to the vet. He almost–" she doesn't complete her sentence, momentarily distracted by her phone.

Edward looks as if he could murder my roommate, but he says nothing, shoveling more pancake into his mouth. I take this lull in the conversation as an opportunity to down my Bloody Mary.

"Mike just texted me. Wants to come over and pick up his van this afternoon. What should I tell him?" Rosalie asks me.

"Can we stall him a bit? I still need to...clean up."

"Got it. A few more hours. That work?"

"Yes."

"Who's Mike?" Edward asks.

We both turn to him. "He's Emmett's friend. He lent us the van...and the tranquilizers," I tell him.

He drops his fork with a loud clatter. "Does he know too?" Edward sounds so weary. I think he's wondering just how many people I let in on his secret.

Emmett laughs.

"No. This is it, promise." I say.

"So. What's your plan Swan?" Emmett asks.

"Esme and Carlisle get back tomorrow. They want to see you," I say turning to Edward. "Maybe your dad could check you out, make sure Banner didn't do any major damage."

"I don't want to see him." There's a finality in his tone that tells me this is not up for discussion. He refused to get medical attention for a gunshot wound, he's certainly not going to go now. Rosalie is watching this exchange looking like she itching to jump in. I decide to pursue it anyway.

"Edward. You fell through a window, from the fourth floor. You should be dead."

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine. You need to see a doctor."

Rosalie, always helpful pipes in, "You could go to Mike's Dad. He's a vet."

Oh Lord. I'm trying to decide best way to throw my body between Rose and Edward before he strangles her. He shoots her one last dirty look before rising abruptly and stalking off. I don't think those two are ever going to be friends.

"What? He is a vet."

Emmett looks troubled. "He fell through a fourth. Story. Window?"

She shrugs at Em. "Yeah, it was pretty epic." Turning back to me, "Well, maybe Edward needs to work on not being so emo all the time."

"Rose!" I hiss. "He can hear you."

"No he can't."

Actually he can. But I wasn't about to tell her that. I watch Edward through the plate glass window. I wonder if I should go after him, before he decides to run off again.

"Whatever. Your boyfriend needs to get over himself. So what if he's a fucking werewolf? Me and Em just found out and we're okay with it. You still want to date him apparently. So why can't he just accept it?"

"It's not that simple."

"No, actually it is. He's never going to stop being a werewolf, As we all know, there's no cure. There's got to be an upside to being a fucking werewolf."

I can think of a few perks, but I'm not about to regale my roommate with those either. I know Edward is hearing all this on the other side of the restaurant window. He's bummed a cigarette off a girl. She's pretty. Tall and leggy, giving off a slouchy, off-duty model vibe. Her body is turned to him, touching him lightly on the shoulder. Flirting. His back is turned to us, so I can't tell if he is reciprocating.

"What's up with that?" Rose asks, her eyes narrowing.

I sink deep into my chair, forcing myself to drag my eyes away from the window. "He probably just wanted a cigarette," I mumble.

"Right."

"Don't look at me like that Rose."

"We're both thinking it. Don't deny it. And I know you saw the file."

"What do you want me to do? Go over there and rip her earrings out? Pull her hair?"

"I don't know. I know you don't want to hear it but I'm trying to be supportive here. You saved his life, the least he can do is make sure all the illegal shit that we did was not all in vain. And not talk to pretty girls when he knows we're watching. Jeez. He owes you that at least."

I've got nothing to say because she's completely right.

"I just don't get it. Why aren't you two all over each other? He can barely look at you. If Em hadn't seen me in two months, I can tell you right now we sure as hell wouldn't be having the brunch from hell, we'd be in my room, fucking."

Emmett has slipped out of the room without my noticing. For such a big guy, he is surprisingly discreet. It stands in stark contrast to his tiny, yet larger-than-life girlfriend. I suppose that's why they work so well together. I don't know what to say. It's complicated. Everything is more difficult for us. Besides, she's the one that invited us.

"Can I be honest with you?"

These are my least favorite words coming from Rosalie's mouth. "Have you ever needed permission before?"

"You know I love you B, but...you can be kind if a doormat, especially when it comes to this guy."

I immediately begin to protest, "That's not true..."

"Yes. It is. You have absolutely no problem telling me to fuck off on the very rare occasion that I cross the line. But, Edward's like, your Achilles heel or something. Dude looks like Skeletor. And he still refuses to get checked out because he's thirty-three years old and still has daddy issues. You just roll over when he starts pouting."

"Edward Cullen does not pout."

"You sure about that? Walking away when you're in the middle of an argument isn't going to resolve anything. He skulks off and you cave. That's how it works isn't it? There are two people in a relationship. You can't have one person dictating the terms all the time, it just doesn't work that way."

I was ready to be dismissive, but her words stop me cold. Her face softens.

"I get it. I do. But loving someone doesn't mean you have to go along with everything they do. Especially when it's self-destructive, no matter how well-intentioned...You're allowed to be a bitch sometimes Bella. He's not going to hate you for putting your foot down when he's acting like an ass."

I can't look at her, so I stare at the floor instead. I'm pissed that she's sticking her nose into my relationship. It's none of her business. And she and Emmett are hardly my relationship ideal. They bicker constantly. I don't think a week has passed since I've known them where there hasn't been some sort of blow-up, followed by incredibly loud make-up sex. And I'm annoyed because she's right, but I can't bring myself to admit it.

"I'm going to go now. Don't hate me okay? I just worry about you B."

"I know."

I give her a small smile. Emmett has already taken care of the bill. Edward is crushing his cigarette butt with the toe of shoe when we find him.

"How much did you hear?" I ask.

"All of it." He walks toward me. "Okay."

"What?"

"I'll see Carlisle."

I blink a few times. "Okay. That works. Where's your new friend?" I ask, trying to sound nonchalant, looking around for the pretty red head.

Edward cocks his head, eyeing me curiously. He knows me too well. If I wasn't indeed completely, irrationally consumed with jealousy at the moment, I'd find this gesture endearing.

"I don't have any friends."

"What about me?"

After a beat he shakes his head no.

I think I've misunderstood. "We're not friends?"

There's a bit of wistfulness in his gaze. I can't decipher his meaning.

"What was in the file Bella?"

I'm not ready for this conversation. It shouldn't matter, all those women he slept with before me. It shouldn't, but it does. I can't stop thinking about it, all those nameless encounters in public restrooms, and back alley ways, anonymous hotel rooms. Why did he tell Banner about all those women he's fucked and he didn't think I was worth mentioning. Not once.

Before I can even decide if I want to know, Rose and Emmett walk up. He nudges her forward lightly.

"Edward I'm sorry I was being an insensitive bitch earlier." she announces. She doesn't look remotely remorseful.

I think he's about to blow her off, but he replies, "It's okay. I'll 'work on not being so emo all the time'."

Rose and Emmett both startle, realizing apparently my werewolf maybe-boyfriend has superhuman hearing as well. She recovers quickly. "We good?"

He nods.

"Let's go home."


	27. Chapter 27

Edward looks ashen in the backseat of Rose's car as we head back to the apartment. I keep asking him if he's okay, but he just nods, lips tight. When she opens the door, he pushes past her, barely making it to the bathroom to throw up his entire breakfast and the majority of mine. When I try to help him, he protests weakly and pushes me out.

I stare at the closed door. After some time, the sounds of Edward retching stops. I knock softly.

"Edward?..."

I wait, my cheek pressed against the cool surface of bathroom door, waiting for his voice. No response. I close my eyes, listening, but I can't hear anything but our upstairs neighbor pacing on the creaking wooden floorboards. I forget that Rosalie and Emmett are still in the room gawking. I turn to face her, just as I swear she is mouthing to Emmett the word "chocolate?"

She has the decency to look sheepish. "I'll drive you to Esme's later," Rose says.

Reluctantly, I step away from the door. "Thanks Rose." I busy myself, stuffing jeans and socks and deodorant into overnight bag. I don't know if he wants me there with him, but I don't care. I'm not leaving him alone. I find a package of new toothbrushes and select a green one for Edward. To match his eyes.

I knock again at the door. Still no response. I pull out a key and unlock it. Edward is seated on the tile floor, his head resting against the cool porcelain edge of the bathtub. He looks like he's sleeping. When his eyes when they meet mine are dead, lifeless. I hold out the new toothbrush.

"Thanks."

I leave him to brush his teeth, finishing my packing in my bedroom. I don't know what else I need. I don't know how long we'll stay. How long will he stay in Chicago? Is he going home after...after what…I don't know.

Edward has reappeared in my doorway. I pull him into my room, closing the door behind me.

"How often does that happen?"

"Everyday."

"For how long?"

He shakes his head

"What did they do to you Edward?" I can't help it, I reach out to trace the new scar on his temple, just barely visible through the new growth of his hair. It grows back so quickly, just a few days ago it was almost to the skin, and there's at least a half inch of soft golden reddish hair.

"I don't remember."

* * *

><p>For the first time in his 27 years of life, Mike Newton is early. I hear the loud blare of the buzzer announcing his presence. Oh crap. He's not supposed to be here until noon. I haven't even touched the van yet. I peer through the curtains at Mike, standing on the front step, shivering in the morning chill. I scan the street, not sure what I'm looking for. What does an undercover cop car look like? In the back of my mind, I've been running through the various ways we will all end up in prison. They could easily run his plates. I'm certain it would not take much to get Mike Newton to crack. He barely knows me and is not going to risk jail time for the slim chance of getting to third base with me. He rings the buzzer again. I consider just letting him stand there and refusing to open the door. Maybe he will get discouraged and return to the basement From whence he came. My phone pings. A text from Mike. He presses the buzzer one more time. Looks up at our window. I flatten myself back against the wall, hoping I haven't been spotted.<p>

Cautiously, I peek through again. Mike looks perplexed. He starts to turn away from the door and I can breathe again. I watch his exit, waiting for the black clad swat team to come meet him, but no, he's not going back the way he came, he's heading to...oh no...I throw the door open, racing down the stairs, through the vestibule. He turns around at the sound of his name.

"Mike! You're early."

"Oh. Hey Bella."

"Sorry...I didn't hear you. You should come up," I say, steering him away from the back of our building, where the garage is. Mike graciously opens the door for me and lets me climb the stairs ahead of him, like a gentleman. I can feel his eyes glued to my ass, but short of sidling up the stairs, there's no way to avoid it.

"That's okay, I hope you don't mind B. I've got a thing later today so…"

"Of course. That was so kind of you to lend us your car. Wasn't it Rose? Did you see, Mike's here. He's come to pick up his van." I say, my voice rising. I catch my roommate's eyes and she swears silently.

"Newton." A smile plastered on her face. "Why don't you have a seat."

"Well, I really can't stay…"

I need to stall. I've already returned to the living room with a bottle of the first thing I could find, Edward's whiskey. Rose looks at me, puzzled. I incline my head toward the back door that leads out to the garage and she nods, disappearing into the kitchen. I force the bottle into Mike's hands.

"Um, Thanks Bella, but uh, I'm not really a…"

"Why don't you have a drink?" I hold out a glass tumbler to him invitingly. I see Rose quietly step out the back door, clutching a spray bottle and a roll of paper towels.

"It's a bit early for shots, don't you think?"

"Early? It's like, afternoon."

He looks down at his watch. "It's 10:45."

"That's okay." Mike is still gawking at me. I take the bottle from his hands and pour about two inches of whiskey into his glass.

"Are you okay Bella?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. Are you okay?"

He's looking at the contents of his glass dubiously. He nods.

"This just doesn't feel right," Mike says, place his glass down on the table.

"What?"

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine. We're fine. Look, I'll have a drink too."

I go back to the kitchen for a glass. Through the porch door, I can see that the garage is open, and that Rose has recruited Emmett. He emerges from the van with a pile of bloodied paper towels. He looks up at the window, sees me and holds the pile in his hands up. I see him mouth, "What. The. Fuck."

I grimace, returning to the living room. I pour myself a glass.

"Cheers." Mike looks perturbed, but still raises the glass to his lips and takes a small sip, wincing slightly.

"Damn girl. You're not playing."

I shrug. "What can I say? I like to have a good time." Cringe. Cringe.

This is the moment in which Edward decides to step out of my room. He looks to me, and then Mike, and then the whiskey bottle in Mike's hands.

"Edward. This is Mike."

Mike puts the bottle down, standing up to extend his hand. "Mike Newton. Nice to meet you dude."

Edward stares at the proferred hand. "Mike. The drug dealer."

"I don't like to put labels on myself. I find them limiting." Mike still has his hand in mid-air. Oh Jesus. Is Edward going to do the alpha dog thing? I can't deal with this right now.

I pull Edward down next to Mike on the couch. "Edward, Mike was kind enough to lend us his van last night. He's here to pick it up," I say, imbuing every syllable with meaning I hope. "Here. Have a drink," I say, pushing my glass into Edward's hand. He grasps my own hand, lingering a touch too long, holding my gaze. I look back at him, eyes wide. I am a terrible person. I shouldn't even be giving him alcohol right now, it will probably just make him sick again, but I need to check on Rose.

He turns to Mike, nodding at him and downs the glass. Mike follows, failing to suppress a cough. Without another word, Edward takes both glasses and refills them.

"You know...I'd love to stay and...take shots with you, but I really need to be going. I'm going to be…"

He starts to rise and Edward grabs him by the scruff of his neck and pulls him back down. He slides Mike's glass back to him. Mike looks helplessly to me and all I can do is give him a sympathetic smile.

"I'm just going to…" I say as I leave him alone with Edward. I rush through the back door, down the stairs to the garage. Rose, looks up at me from inside the van. It's absolutely spotless.

"We're almost done here."

"Rose! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" I'm so relieved, I give her a big kiss on the mouth.

"Nice."

Emmett looks like he's recovered his sense of humor at least. "Please continue whatever you were doing ladies. I will just sit here and record it on my phone."

Rose throws a wad of bloodied paper towels at him. She hops out of the van, grabbing the bottle of Lysol with her. She slams the van doors shut behind her.

"You owe me. Us. Big time." Gingerly she peels off the rubber gloves and dumps them in the garbage can.

"I know." I'm pretty sure I owe her a few kidneys, at this point.

"Where's Mike?"

"With Edward. Doing shots in the living room."

They both laugh. I notice Emmett is brandishing a power drill. He hands it to Rosalie and she screws in an Illinois license plate on the back of Mike's van.

"Is that...?"

"Mike's plate." She walks around to the front of the van stooping to remove the front plate.

"Then what is that?" I ask, pointing at the plate in her hand. Grinning, she turns it around to show me, a novelty plate from the Wisconsin Dells, with the word "BITCH" stamped into the metal.

"C'mon B, who do you think you're dealing with here? Amateur hour? I'm not going to get us caught because they got Mike's license plate on a security camera."

"Bless you Rosalie Hale. You're a genius."

"I know."

"But what about the back plate? What did you use?"

Emmett holds up another novelty plate, this one from Dollywood that also says "BITCH" across the front. He smiles widely, "I knew these would come in handy babe."

Rose rolls her eyes. "He picks me up one whenever he goes on vacation. I have like, dozens by now."

"So thoughtful Emmett. Such Romance. Wow."

"Stop talking like a Shiba Inu Bella. Speaking of...we should probably tell Edward we're done before he gives Newton alcohol poisoning." Rosalie says, stacking the novelty plates neatly on the shelf.

"You just did."

"Seriously? He heard that?" Rosalie asks, incredulous, looking back at our building.

"Probably. I don't know what kind of range he has..."

"Damn...What else can he do?"Emmett looks awed. I can see the realization slowly dawning on him, that we were telling the truth.

"You'll have to ask him yourself."

When we return to the apartment, we find Mike slumped on the sofa, half empty glass in hand. Edward plucks it away from him and places it gingerly on the coffee table. Edward stands up, looking in considerably better shape than Mike.

"How many did you have?"

"Eight."

Without another word, he walks to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. A short while later, I hear him vomiting up the contents of that bottle.

"Poor Mike. Is he going to be alright?"

Emmett shrugs. "Nah, he's fine. Let him sleep it off, this is a typical Saturday for him." He arranges the passed out Mike so that he is now laying on the couch, softly snoring. No police after us. No hospital. Mike's van is clean. And Mike will presumably be on his way in a few hours. It looks like we're almost home free.


	28. Chapter 28

"Wait here," he instructs. I watch him slip into the dark narrow space between the two houses, no wider than a shoulders' breadth apart. He probably did this a million times growing up. He says Esme keeps a spare key in a ceramic turtle in the back garden, precisely for these rare moments when Edward decides to come home. It seems to me a terrible idea, especially in Chicago. If I was going to rob a house, the ceramic turtle would be the first place I would look. But I appreciate the gesture anyway.

He's been gone a long time. I am debating whether or not to follow him. I'm a little disturbed by how frequently the fear that he has run away again crosses my mind. It shouldn't be like this. I shouldn't have to work so hard to keep him. The heavy front door swings open, Edward behind it.

The house is dark, heavy drapes drawn. Edward makes no move to open them I feel as if I am trespassing with Esme and Carlisle gone, but of course this was Edward's home once. I keep forgetting because I can't see him in this place. The air feels stale and too cold. We are alone, truly alone, finally.

"Have you been here before?" he asks.

"Once". My eyes involuntarily drift to the dining room, remembering the last time I was here. I'm almost expecting to see a bloodbath, but of course it's pristine. The cream upholstered seats have been replaced with slender teak Danish Modern chairs. He walks through the room, running a finger lightly along the smooth wooden armrest of a chair and stops abruptly. He knows somehow. He looks back at me, but I can't quite meet his eyes. I stare at the parquet floors, just listening to the sound of Edward's breathing. I can't take it anymore. I walk past Edward into the kitchen. I sit down at the island, tracing the fine gray lines in the white marble. He knows. Of course he knows.

I hear him step into the kitchen. Edward is opening and closing cabinets, sliding the freezer drawer open and shutting it.

"What are you looking for?" I ask.

"I need a drink," he answers, still combing through the pantry.

"I don't think they keep alcohol in the house."

Edward snorts. "I'm pretty sure he does," he mutters, his back to me.

"Um, I think Carlisle's been on the wagon for a while. Esme doesn't drink at home either, you know, to be supportive."

He freezes. He appears to be mulling over the idea, rolling it around in his brain but shakes it off. After discerning that there is indeed, no alcohol in the kitchen, Edward moves his search to Carlisle's office upstairs. I feel like I'm trespassing. He rifles through desk drawers and file cabinets and when those turn up nothing, Edward has a few odd hiding places that he zeroes in on immediately, too specific to be random. I just know he isn't going to find anything. At least, I hope he won't. If anyone could help Carlisle beat alcohol addiction, it's Esme. That woman is absolutely relentless, in the best way. Edward turns his focus onto the bookshelves lining the wall behind Carlisle's desk. He's pulling heavy leather bound reference tomes down now, discarding them on the floor with abandon.

"Edward. Stop that. He's sober now. He's been sober for years. You're not going to find anything."

He either doesn't hear me or chooses to ignore me, continuing his path of destruction. I try my best to replace the books, but he's moving too quickly for me to undo much of the damage.

"EDWARD! STOP!"

He looks at me, as if just noticing I am in the room for the first time.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"He always keeps a bottle here."

"No. Not anymore. He's not like that. He's changed." I don't even know if this is true. I don't know Carlisle well, not at all really. I want to believe it is. For Edward's sake, and for Esme.

Edward is slowly shaking his head. He looks down at the floor, the pile of books at his feet.

"No."

"What?"

"People don't change."

I open my mouth to argue, but then pause. Do they? I'm the biggest hypocrite in the world if I argue with him. I can't seem to alter my path, even when I know I'm about to make the same mistakes again and again.

"Why bother? You're going to throw it up anyway. Two rounds this morning wasn't enough for you? Even you can't be that much of a masochist."

"I'm not a masochist."

I'm tired. I'm not going to do this. I just raise an eyebrow at him.. Wordlessly, I leave him alone in Carlisle's office, with the mess that he has made. Looking for something to do to keep myself occupied while Edward...punches the wall it sounds like, I open up the curtains, cracking the windows open. The early spring air is crisp and cold again, but it already feels a million times better in the house with fresh air and light. I walk through the empty rooms downstairs, feeling like a stranger in this house that holds no good memories for me. For both of us, I suppose. I could walk away right now. Walk out that front door and climb into a cab and never look back. Even I'm not delusional enough to believe that he would run after me. Edward runs away from things. From me. That's what he does. And I chase after him. This is what we do.

There have been so many times in our short acquaintance that I could have slipped out of his life forever. If I did so now, I know it would be the last time. I want him. God I want him. He's so close and I want him so badly. I want him with a desperation that has seeped into the marrow of my being, he's the ache in my bones, the only face I see when I close my eyes.

But I can't live like this. I can't keep reliving this nightmare goodbye, this endless cycle of destruction. I need to stop it or walk away.

He finds me in the kitchen, seated at Esme's island with a mug of Earl Grey.

"Who won?" I ask.

"The wall."

I walk to the fridge and wrap some ice in a clean white dish cloth. Edward is right behind me. I take his injured hand, holding the ice to it.

"You're a masochist Edward Cullen."

He frowns slightly, but gives me a short nod.

I sit back on the barstool, staring down at my tea. I don't know what to say. But experience has shown me I will be kept waiting forever if I expect Edward Cullen to speak first.

"It happened here, in the dining room," he says. It's not a question.

I look up, surprised to hear his voice. Soundlessly he has moved beside me, so close. How did he?...The blood. He smelled the blood. I nod, eyes staring at my reflection in the heavy mug.

"Tell me...tell me what happened."

"I don't remember much. It happened so quickly." I'm scrambling for the right words. To tell him what happened, but not give him the fuel to beat himself up further.

"We were eating in there," I look toward the dining room. "And then I started to cramp. I looked down and there was blood. And then I passed out. When I woke up, I was in a hospital gown. Esme told me what happened."

He says nothing for a long while. I think my version wasn't too bad. I made it sound like a particularly bad period, nothing more. He unpeels my fingers one by one off the mug and takes my hands into his own. I raise my gaze to his face, watch the adam's apple bob in his throat as he swallows, and I know right away that he knows that I'm lying.

"Bella...tell me. The truth. Stop trying to protect me."

I close my eyes. I know how this conversation will go.

"Why? What does it matter?"

"I'll never forgive myself for what I did to you."

"And then what? You leave me again? You're just looking for an excuse to run back to that mountain so you can live alone and be miserable and drink yourself to death."

I pull my hands away. I don't want him touching me right now. I'm so tired of this endless back and forth. I'm tired of all the things I haven't said.

"You want to know what really happened Edward? There was too much blood. It was so...it was so bright it didn't look real. I could feel it running down my legs. I thought I was dying...And I could have died. They told me if Carlisle hadn't been there to stabilize me, I would have. If it had happened a day earlier, a few hours later at home, I would not be here."

I am just realizing that this is probably goodbye. Have always known. With a reckless desperation, the words that I had never been able to speak fall easily from my lips. It hurts to look at his pale, stricken face, my own horror and sorrow reflected back at me.

"And when I wake up and...I found out that I had been pregnant. Jesus." I close my eyes. "I didn't want it Edward. I'm not ready now, and I don't know if I ever will be. But...fuck You. No one should have to go through that alone. They couldn't find you. Esme and Carlisle. I had Rose breaking all sorts of laws trying to track you down. Disappeared without a trace again...as if you were never real in the first place."

My skin is flushed, the blood pumping too fast and hot. I want to hit him, really hurt him, and I want to hold him to my breast and stroke his hair and feel his pulse next to mine. And the coward I am wants this deluge of honesty to stop. But I know when my words cease it will be truly over. He will kiss me and tell me he's sorry for the last time.

"You can't do this. Come into my life and...change me, change everything. You're in my blood Edward. I'm not the same person I was and I can't pretend that this never happened. I know you feel it too, it's not just me...You can't walk away like it never happened. I'm not some random girl you've fucked in the back of your truck..."

My words trail off near the end, the sound muffled by his flannel shirt. By now the hot tears are streaming down my face. I struggle briefly, but fall limp as his arms wrap around me, sobbing into his chest and wetting his shirt with my tears. He's holding me so tight, kissing the top of my hair.

"You should have been here." Part of me resents the fact that he didn't know, irrational as it is, he couldn't have, I know this. But I still hate him for it. I feel him nod. After some time, my breath slows, the tears have stopped for now. It's that quiet moment after a storm after the rain has stopped. And Edward is the sun but I can't bear to look at him.

He holds my face in both hands. I feel so tiny in his large grasp, so fragile, as if my bones were ancient, sun dried and brittle he could break my neck in two with just a slight snap. I could scatter in a million pieces like the head of a dandelion. There's just the sound of my shallow ragged breathing.

"I'm not...deserving of your love Bella."

These words spoken. And he's gone again.

He'll never be mine. I nod my head in acceptance. I close my eyes. Feeling the weight of my eyelids heavy on my skull. My tears fall freely now, soundlessly down my wet cheeks, my neck, the hollows of my collarbones. An emptiness where my heart used to be. I feel his tender kiss on my lashes. His lips brush my eyelids, my brow, my lips, as if I'm receiving communion. A last prayer. A last goodbye.

"I'm not a good man. I'll never be good enough...but I will try everyday, as long as you want me. Even after you no longer want me, to earn it."

My eyes snap open and his green eyes are looking back at me.

"Say it again."

"I will—"

I don't give him a chance to finish. My mouth crashes into his, putting everything, my relief, my shock, my joy, and most of all my love into the kiss.


	29. Chapter 29

We find our way back to each other, his lips so tender on my own. I inhale him, drunk on his scent, the smoke and iron and salt. Skin and teeth and touch but it's never enough. I'm not sure if that constant pounding is my pulse or Edward. It's too much sensation I can barely stand it my heart just might explode. I say everything that my inarticulate heart could never speak out loud with touch, taste. I missed you. I want you. Please stay.

I let him wash over me, a careful hand, on my cheek, the fingers rough yet impossibly gentle, threading through the strands of my hair. His jaw, deliciously rough with new beard against the soft of my neck. The light scrape of teeth against my pulse that is a line of white heat splitting me right down the center.

He is dangerous and unearthly, strange and animal, for me the line between life and death is balanced precariously in his grasp. Does he know he holds my heart in his hands? I bare my neck to him.

Lips trace the hollows of my collarbones. He kisses me again. He knows what it means to me. We both know he doesn't need to say the words. He shows me.

Edward breaks away from me, just a moment so that we can both reclaim our breath. He rests his forehead against mine, eyes closed. He runs his thumb along my lips, reading my face like a blind man. I could never lie to him. I could try, but he always knew. Edward knew and he let me hide in my lies because I needed them. The both of us, always running from something. It's no wonder we found each other.

He folds me against his chest, and I wrap myself around him. Waiting for our hearts to slow, as if we've just run a marathon. I can feel his hardness, pressing heavy against my stomach. It's not enough. I am hungry, starving, the want is endless, infinite. I need to feel him, taste him, take him inside me. I slide my hand between our bodies, stroking the length of him, but he stills me.

"Fuck." He swears. I begin to feel my face heat with the sting of rejection, but before it can take Edward holds my face in both his hands and touches his lips to mine quickly. He closes his eyes, tense, listening for something.

"They're here."

He relaxes, closing himself around my body again. A few minutes later, I hear keys in the front door, the click of heels on the shiny parquet floors. I can hear them getting louder, as she nears the kitchen. And then she stops.

"Edward?"

He steps back from me, looking down quickly to check himself, and not seeing any visible signs of an erection turns around.

Esme comes in like a tornado, a swirl of strawberry blonde, and woolen cape and expensive perfume. She lets her bags fall to the ground and comes rushing at Edward arms wide to receive him. She wraps herself around him, swallowing him up in one of her signature bone crushing hugs and I see a smile on his lips, which transforms into a slight grimace of pain. I silently ask if he's alright and he nods at me. She eases slightly, still holding him, but leans back to look up at him. As if just noticing me for the first time, she gathers me into her side, squeezing tightly.

"Bella honey! It's so good to see you! Both of you!" She beams. She places a small hand on each of our faces.

"What are you doing here ?"

She decides to go in for another hug, this time we both notice Edward's wince of pain.

"Are you hurt?" She asks.

Unable to recover quickly enough to deny it, he looks at me and then nods. "Broken ribs." He says, touching his side lightly.

"Hello Edward."

Carlisle has silently stepped into the kitchen, still in his coat. He looks like a different man entirely, from the kind doctor who treated me a few weeks ago, or as Esme's husband. A faint chill has crept over everything, as if he'd brought the outside in with him. I find it strange that he doesn't come closer, but chooses to linger in the doorway. His eyes are locked on Edward, taking in the sunken cheeks, the dark circles, the new pink of scarred flesh, his almost wraithlike body.

"Dad."

There is no warmth in his voice either. Edward's expression is closed, unreadable. Esme is witness to this exchange, looking between her stepson and his father.

"What is going on here?" She asks. "And what happened to you honey?"

Still not taking his eyes off of Carlisle, Edward tells her, "I...fell out of a window. They gave me something for the pain, but I've been having a bad reaction to the meds...so I came here."

"Oh my God."

"I'm okay Esme. I'll be healed in a few days."

"How on Earth did you...and Carlisle, why didn't you just tell me Edward was in town?"

"I...wanted it to be a surprise."

Wow. These two, both terrible liars. Esme doesn't look convinced but she lets it slide. I suspect she will interrogate her husband behind closed doors later.

"Well, I'm sorry it had to happen under these circumstances but I'm glad you're home. It's been too long honey. Are you staying here for a while? You could have your old room."

Edward just barely flinches, but I notice it anyway. "No. We're staying at Bella's." He glances quickly at me and I nod, a little relieved.

"Come up to my office Edward, I'll take a look at you."

Carlisle walks away, without waiting for a response. Edward gives my hand a gentle squeeze, and a kiss for Esme on the cheek before following. I can hear the low rumble of voices but I can't make out the words.

"You must be so tired Esme. I won't keep you from getting back settled in."

"Nonsense," she says, taking off her cape and draping it haphazardly on the bar stool. "I slept on the plane and I'm not touching those suitcases until tomorrow. Can I get you something to drink Bella? Tea?"

"That would be lovely. Thanks."

I take my seat at the island and watch her move about the kitchen, putting the kettle on the stove. She seems awfully nonchalant about all of this. Edward's sudden reappearance. I can't imagine he comes home very often. And from their brief exchange, it sounded as if Carlisle hadn't told her the exact reason for the hasty return to the states. Esme probably knows more than she's letting on but it looks like she's keeping her cards close to her chest at the moment. I wonder if her cheerful guardedness is at all due to my presence.

"I've got...green, rooibos, chamomile, earl grey, oolong..."

"Rooibos would be great, thank you."

She measures a few tablespoons of the tea leaves into a metal filter, and then fills the teapot with boiling water. She sets out two tea cups and slides one toward me.

"Honey, do you mind if I run upstairs and change quickly? I need to get out of these travel clothes." She says, sniffing delicately.

"Of course not. Don't mind me."

"Give it two minutes to steep. I'll be back in a second."

There is a loud, unmistakeable thump, of something heavy falling upstairs. I automatically jump up, and run up the stairs to Carlisle's study. The closer I get, I hear the menacing growl of men's voices. Too low to decipher the words, but it is evident by tone alone that there is animosity between the two. I press an ear against the heavy wooden door.

"...how could you be so...Goddamned reckless? Getting That poor girl pregnant and then abandoning her! How could you be so...? Did she tell you? She's lucky to be alive. Bella's a sweet girl, soft hearted. She may have forgiven you but you need to let her go, give her room to move on, before you cause her more pain than she's already endured. She deserves better."

He didn't abandon me. He didn't know. And he's not going anywhere. But Edward says nothing.

"We've talked about this...your need to...look I know, I've been young. Single. But you can't keep ...the consequences are too dire. You can't risk the chance of getting some poor girl pregnant and passing on your condition. It's too dangerous. Do you hear me?" He pauses for a long time. "Did it have to be Bella? Esme loves that girl. If anything had happened to her...if I had known Esme was sending her up there...Jesus...How did you keep it from her?"

"I didn't."

"What?"

"I told her."

"I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but it needs to stop. Bella almost died, because of your recklessness. This is no time to be making jokes."

"I'm telling the truth."

There is a long silence. Followed by a loud crash and a string of expletives. I don't know if this would be a good time to interrupt. What if he's hurt? I don't thing Carlisle would ever raise his hand to his son...but I barely know Edward's father. I push the door open.  
>They both turn their heads to face me at the same time, the angry expressions on their faces nearly identical. I see the remains of a wooden chair, now strewn in broken shards on the floor, and a new hole in the wall, just a few feet from the one Edward made.<p>

"Is...everything okay?" Stupid question, I know.

"It's fine dear. We...had a misunderstanding." He gestures at the floor. "Nothing to worry about."

"Are you okay Edward?" I take a step nearer to him. He nods. Still glaring at his father.

"We'll be done in a few minutes dear. Why don't you tell Esme we'll be down shortly."

"No. She can stay."

"I don't think that's a great idea Edward."

"She knows everything." Edward states, almost defiant, a hint of...satisfaction almost in his voice?

Carlisle's eyes dart to me for confirmation. I nod.

"She knows...about your...condition..." Carlisle says slowly, carefully.

"Werewolf."

Carlisle barks out a short, unconvincing laugh. "Don't be ridiculous Edward. I don't have time for these absurd pranks." He looks to me with false mirth on his face, but I can see the panic creeping. He's paler than usual, a fine sheen of sweat dampening his forehead.

"She's seen me, seen me change. She knows I'm a werewolf and she doesn't care." He takes my hand now, entwining his fingers with my own.

His father abandons any attempt at normalcy, utterly aghast. Looking between me and Edward, and back again.

"I've seen him turn back. From a wolf, I mean." I confirm. "I know. And I'm fine with it."

He stumbles and sinks into his chair, running a hand through his blonde hair in a very familiar gesture. "How could you...you showed her? Everything?"

"Yes. She's the reason I came."

Edward recounts the event of the past few weeks leading up until this morning. Banner and the hospital, the escape, Rosalie and Emmett and Mike. I feel that the angsty teenage boy inside Edward is secretly getting a thrill out of shocking his father.

"Your roommates know?"

"Yes."

"How did they take it?"

"Rose doesn't care, and I think Emmett might be, kind of fascinated? I think he thinks Edward's some kind of superhero." I can see the unspoken question in Carlisle's eyes.

"You don't have to worry about them."

"Edward, I can't begin to tell you how...incredibly stupid this was. Dangerous. You can't just go around telling other people about your condition. No one can be trusted. No one. You could be locked up in an underground lab right now, being experimented on."

He doesn't reply...because it's true. Looking down, he still holds my hand, tracing an old scar on my knuckle from the first time I saw him transform.

"And we still don't know what exactly this doctor did to you."

"Rose has his notes from their sessions,it has the meds he was on too, I could have her send them to you."

"How did you get those files?"

"My roommate is...good with computers."

Understatement of the year.

"That would be a good place to start. Yes, please send those to me Bella, I would appreciate that. And if your roommate Rosalie would take care to be...discreet about Edward's situation it would be the best thing for all parties involved."

"Of course."

"Now Edward, I'm going to take a little blood and run some tests, try to figure out what's going on here." Carlisle seems to have recovered, at least temporarily. He has switched to doctor mode, he seems calm and in control again. Edward removes his shirt and though I've seen him without it recently, I still startle at the sight. It's just that...he's so thin. Even Carlisle seems unnerved, but he quickly recovers, hiding in the routine protocol of a check up. 160 pounds. Too thin for someone well over six feet. I'd guess he's lost about twenty pounds in the past few weeks. When it comes time to take his blood, I notice for the first time that Edward's forearms are riddled with the sickly yellow of fading track marks. I look away as Carlisle prepares the needle to enter the skin. I feel a large hand, finding my own and giving me a little squeeze.

"It's over. You can look now."

"Sorry. I'm squeamish."

His lip curls up slightly. "Better get used to it. I seem to get in trouble a lot."

"I noticed."

Carlisle is watching this exchange, the oddest expression on his face. I feel a little self-conscious so I blurt out the first thing that pops in my head. "It's pretty convenient, having a dad that's a doctor. No need to sit in a germ infested waiting room to get cold medicine."

"I don't get sick."

I raise an eyebrow at this, poking a finger at his visible rib cage. He smiles somewhat sheepishly.

"He's right. Edward's immune system and accelerated healing don't allow for any external virus or bacteria to make a home in his body. In fact...I don't remember you getting a cold or flu, ever... Maybe when you were a baby, but nothing ever serious. But once you started the regular transformations...never."

Carlisle looks perturbed, and the slight ripple in his doctor facade sends a chill down my spine. He begins an examination of the injuries on Edward's body, cataloguing wounds and new scars. When he gets to the gunshot wound that was courtesy of me, Edward smiles and just states "friendly fire" as the cause. Carlisle doesn't press. A few injuries he has no memory of and I can tell it bothers him a great deal. The one on his temple, and another, scar on the left side of his head, partially hidden by his hair. It is just a pale pink line now, no longer than an inch. There are these gaps in his memory, too specific, to simply be caused by the medication alone.

Carlisle asks if I would mind waiting downstairs. I look to Edward and he pulls me to him, I rest my hands on his chest. He kisses me just once.

"I'll be down soon and then we can go home."

Home. Edward. Soon. There is a warmth, radiating from the center of my chest. I walk out, with both sets of eyes heavy on me. I know Carlisle is wrong. About almost everything when it comes to Edward. The important things anyway.


	30. Chapter 30

It is late again as we share a quiet taxi ride back to my apartment, my head resting on his shoulder, the low hum of Ethiopian jazz meandering through the radio. Lakeshore Drive stretches before us, a seemingly endless expanse of black, punctuated by the few cars on the road at this late hour. He's got an old winter coat of Carlisle's on his shoulders and a duffle bag of clothing at his feet. Enough to last him a while.

Esme begged us to stay but didn't look especially surprised when we bade her farewell. She's behaving strangely, the lack of questions to this spectacularly odd situation is incredibly out of character. The Esme that I've known is far too clever and curious to acquiesce this easily. The more I think about it, I can't imagine how she had lived in that house, for at least a year when Edward was also living there, without finding out. Despite the spur of the moment "romantic getaways", each conveniently coinciding with the rise of the full moon. And from what I've witnessed, it seems Carlisle is a terrible liar. It just doesn't add up.

"I'm not going anywhere Bella."

I turn to look at him, his face just planes of shadow in the darkened cab.

"I know you heard him." He says.

I did. The words were familiar to me. Carlisle repeated every reason that Edward has ever given me for why he must spend the rest of his life alone. I can't vilify Carlisle too much for this, even though I don't agree with his reasoning. I'd been mulling over their interactions as I waited for Edward to come downstairs. Those words were harsh, but I believe it was tough love on Carlisle's part, without any malicious intent, even if his delivery method was less than ideal. He's terrified for Edward, and the only course of action that seems safe to him is a life of solitude. He loves him and he's afraid his son will end up in a cage. In trying to prevent it, he's shackled him another way, the worst self-fulfilling prophecy.

"Why didn't you say anything back to him? He's wrong Edward."

He shakes his head. "No. It wouldn't make a difference. I've been hearing this my entire life." He looks down at our clasped hands. "He's right about some things. But it doesn't matter. I'm not running anymore. I'll find a way to make it work, even if it kills me." His mouth a grim line of determination.

I certainly hope not. But I appreciate the sentiment. I can't help the small grin.

"What?" He asks, confused.

"Even your declarations of...affection are...so Edward."

Edward insists on paying for the cab. With what money, I'm not sure, but I don't ask. We've never discussed finances, we never had reason to. He could keep his money in gold bars buried in the backyard as far as I know. He follows me up the steps to my apartment. I'm a little disappointed to hear the tv still on.

Rose and Em are home, and still awake apparently. I just want to be alone with him. I would be content to study his face for the next eight hours. Creepy Bella. Don't scare the poor boy off right away. The truth is, I don't know how to behave in a normal healthy relationship. And Edward probably doesn't either. We are the blind leading the blind. I push the door open and am greeted by my roommates on the couch, and a newly sober Mike Newton. Rosalie pops up from her seat and heads toward the kitchen signaling for me to follow.

"That was quick. I didn't expect you back until tomorrow."

"Esme and Carlisle caught an early flight."

"How'd it go?"

When I'm sure we're out of Mike's earshot, I tell her, omitting some of Carlisle's remarks. He said he was going to do some bloodwork and then we're supposed to come back the next day.

"Why is Mike still here?"

"He won't leave. He slept through a job interview that his dad got him and now he's afraid to go home. I felt guilty because...you know. So. We played two rounds of Catan and now they're watching the first season of Game of Thrones for the dozenth time."

"I'm so sorry. You are the best friend a girl could ask for."

She waves me away. "Mike's not that bad. He's just thirsty ever since he and Jess broke up. I think once they come to their senses and get back together he'll start behaving like a normal human person again."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know B. Stop apologizing. You'd do the same for me. It's a no brainer."

I hug her, I can't help it, and she endures it for exactly fifteen seconds and then lets go, punching me lightly on the shoulder. When we go back to the living room, Edward is now sitting next to Emmett on the couch. Without taking his eyes off the screen, Emmett reaches down to the cooler at his feet and hands a cold beer to Edward. This is beyond lazy, as the fridge is just in the next room. He must have plans to stay on the couch a while.

"I'm going to bed," Rosalie announces. "You coming?"

"Nah. I'm gonna finish this episode." And the next. And then one after that. On and on until the Red Wedding if I know Emmett at all.

She says goodnight and retreats to her room.

"I'm going to take a shower," I tell Edward. "Are you okay out here...? Or do you want to hang out in my room for a while?"

"I'm fine," Edward says, glancing quickly at his couch mates who are currently transfixed by something on screen, mouths slightly agape. I look over at the tv. Yup. Boobs.

"Okay."

I gather my robe from my room and head to the bathroom. Before closing the door behind me, I hear Mike ask, "So Edward, how do you know Bella?"

I pause, waiting for his answer.

"She's my girlfriend."

* * *

><p>I close my eyes, letting the hot water fall over me. Girlfriend. I'm his girlfriend now. It's such a stupidly small word, so inconsequential really, but I know what it took for him to say it. I don't know how to handle this new bit of knowledge, my body doesn't know whether it wants to laugh or cry out or both. Other people say it everyday, they change their status updates on Facebook like it's nothing. Bella Swan is in a relationship. With Edward Cullen.<p>

Girlfriend.

I am his. And he is mine. Maybe not forever, not yet. But for now, it means everything.

I am rinsing the shampoo from my hair when I feel cool air as the curtain is pushed aside. I open my eyes to see Edward, standing in the shower in front of me. I feel the weight of his gaze as he drags his eyes over my bare skin...lingering, hungry, an edge of desperation in his looking. I feel it as if he has already touched me, as if those are his calloused fingertips grazing over my naked body, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

His large hands slide up the sides of my body, turning me to face the white tiles of the shower wall. I lean back into him, feeling the familiar hardness pressing against the cleft of my ass. He takes the white bar of soap and massages it into a creamy lather. His move to cup my breasts, heavy in his hands. His fingertips skim my nipples, teasing them into rosy peaks. I can feel the roughness of his beard, as he lays kisses all along my neck. He gives my left nipple a little tweak and I almost moan out loud, but Edward clamps a hand over my mouth.

"You have to be quiet," he whispers.

Emmett and Mike are just outside, in fact, I can just hear the clank of swords and soaring music on the television. In response, I dart my tongue out to lick his hand.

"Spread your legs baby."

I do.

He runs soapy hands up my thighs, my hips, the curve of my buttocks and then back again. He spreads his fingers over my inner thighs, just grazing where I want him most, but then shies away again. Impatiently, I press myself further into him. I've waited months for this. I need him inside me. Now.

"Edward…"

"Shhh…" A finger against my lips. I take his index finger into my mouth and suck. I bite a little too. I reach around and take him in my hand, hard and swollen. He wants this as badly as I do.

He takes both of my hands and places them against the cool white tile. He spreads my lips wide, I shudder as cool air brushes against my clit.

"Are you wet baby?" His voice is a low growl.

I nod.

"You want me to fuck you?"

Yes. Yes. Please Yes.

"Not yet."

I know he means it too. I want to cry out in frustration. But then he slides two fingers inside me and I gasp. His thumb traces slow, teasing circles on my clit, as he pumps in and out of me, filling me. I'm grateful for the wall, something to hold on to as he fucks me with his hand, his cock hard against my ass. And then I am silenced by his hand against my mouth as I scream my orgasm, shattering against his rough hands.

I am a boneless, propped up by the cool porcelain against my forehead. Lips on my neck. The shell of my ear. A nose running along my cheekbone. He finds my mouth and we find each other all over again.


	31. Chapter 31

_Thank you to all you wonderful women that are still reading this story._

_Merry Christmas! Here's a lemon. _:)

* * *

><p>His kisses me on the cheek one last time before slipping out of the shower. That man. That man drives me crazy. He seeps into my brain, filling the corners, saturating my thoughts until any vestiges of my rational self are completely obliterated. And I like it. Probably more than I should, more than is healthy. I know this lust, this sex haze will lift eventually, but what will it leave in it's wake? I guess I don't care right now. It's not rational, it's animal, it's pure id, i've never felt less human in my life. I've never felt more alive. This is living. Not second guessing, not hiding, not letting the tide take me wherever.<p>

I step out into the steamy bathroom and wipe the mirror clear. I look like I've just been fucked. Even though I haven't, technically. I started on hormonal birth control the other day, but it will take a few more days for it to take effect. I think about the giant variety pack of condoms in my bedside table, purchased from some very kind ladies at the feminist sex shop. I bought it when I was trying to have a one night stand. Several one night stands. I wouldn't be surprised if Carlisle had snuck a box of prophylactics into his son's duffle bag, after that exchange that I'd overheard.

I wrap my robe tightly around my body and walk out the bathroom, down the hallway, through the living room where Emmett and Mike are still sprawled out on the couch. Their new buddy nowhere to be seen. Emmett lets out a wolf whistle. He holds his hand up for a high five but I just roll my eyes at him and laugh, continuing on to my bedroom. I'm pretty sure we were quiet. Whatever. It's not like I haven't been an unwilling third party to Em and Rose's almost weekly breakups and makeups. The joys of shared living spaces.

I open my bedroom door and he's there. It's like the best magic trick ever. I lock the door quietly behind me and just stand there, looking at him. He is long and lean stretched out on my bed. Eyes closed, hands clasped on his chest, his shirt, done up in haste, is buttoned wrong. All those weeks spent staring at that shirt hanging from the back of my door. And now I have it's owner in my bed. I come up beside him and undo the buttons, pushing them back through their proper slots. He's barely awake, watching me through heavy lids, with the sweetest, sleepiest smile on his face.

He pulls me by the wrist to sit next to him on the bed. His eyes drop to my robe.  
>He fingers the soft white terry cloth fabric. He tugs on my belt lightly. He pauses.<p>

"Those guys...saw you dressed like this?"

"They did. Are you jealous?"

He looks right at me and answers "Yes," without hesitation. "I could just..."

He slides one hand under the opening of my robe, palming a breast. He takes a nipple between two fingers, pinching, and teasing, pulling them it into a rosy bud. "I missed these. He pulls the shoulders of my robe down, exposing my breasts, now taking them both in his hands.

"You missed my boobs?"

"Mhmm." He answers. Mouth currently occupied with getting reacquainted with my breasts. I arch my back into him, greedy for the maddening sensations of his velvet tongue and the gentle scrape of teeth.

"What else did you miss?"

All of a sudden, I am flipped onto my back. Edward hovers above me. Now fully awake and alert. He's getting his strength back, it looks like. He slides down my body, resting between my knees. He unties the belt, unwrapping me from my robe, spreading it, until I am completely exposed to him, creamy white flesh blushing pink.

"Tell me." I say. Even though he is fully dressed and I am laid open in front of him like a present, I'm not shy anymore. I feel as if I could be beautiful under his reverent gaze.

"I missed dipping my tongue...here," he says circling my belly button. He drags his hands over the curve of my waist, the swell of my hips, underneath my ass, squeezing my buttocks with both hands. "And this..." His hands continue their downward exploration, under my knees, pulling them up and apart until my thighs are spread wide open in front of him. He moves back slightly to get a better view.

I feel his eyes on me, gaze lowered to the place between my thighs. Yes. He looks back up at me, an almost predatory gleam on his eyes. And then he lowers that mouth to my body and takes one long lick and I gasp. I am wet and ready for Edward, wanting, have been in this state since I laid eyes on him again, but he intends to kill me surely with this slow sweet torture. Like he has all the time in the world to make me go slowly insane.

And he does. His tongue, wet and cool from the night air on my heat, teasing, touching, almost but never quite enough. Dipping inside me, and then pulling out again. Again and again until I writhing in my bed, my hands clutching his head, pressing my hips shamelessly into his mouth. I am begging for more. Please. Fuck me Edward. Please.

And he does. Fuck me. With his tongue. As deep as it will go. And he is licking me like I am honey, ambrosia, the sweetest nectar. It's obscene the things he does to me, as he greedily laps and sucks, feeling his wet open mouthed kisses...everywhere...places we haven't explored until now. If I was capable of rational thought I'd be blushing, but it feels so good and I would let him do just about anything he wanted to my body right now.

I want his cock inside me so badly but this is...oh my god... I am riding his mouth, the pad of his thumb moving hypnotic circles on my clitoris, one, two, now three fingers inside me, his lips everywhere. Kissing, sucking, biting, driving me mad with sensation. I am heat and nerves and skin and it is all for Edward. Only he can do this, play my body like he was born to make love to me. And then I shudder and collapse but he's still on me, in me. His tongue still not satisfied, sending little tremors up my body until I am coming again on his lips.

He rises over my spent body, wet lips in my ear whispering, "I missed your pussy too."

"Edward..."

And his mouth is on mine, the softest kisses, velvet tongue slipping between my lips, and I grant him entry. We find each other, touching, tasting...These beautiful lips, this beautiful man...he's so soft, so tender. He cradles my face in his hands. I can feel his smile against my own. He rubs his rough jaw against my cheek, nuzzling me. And my heart can barely stand it I am so full, of love, and lust, and this beautiful man.

* * *

><p>I wake up in an empty bed. I begin to feel the rise of my heart in my throat, but then hear the sounds of life outside my bedroom door and I relax.<p>

What a difference a day makes.

I shrug on Edward's shirt and a pair of leggings. Inhaling deeply. It smells like him.  
>The kitchen is a strange domestic scene. Edward is at the stove looking unreasonably sexy in my blue gingham apron, cast iron skillet in hand, flipping potatoes with easy grace. Emmett and Mike are deeply engrossed in what looks like huevos rancheros. Rosalie, in glasses and yoga clothes, is tapping away on the laptop open on the kitchen table. She takes a sip out of her giant mug, and just noticing my presence scoots over to give me room to sit down.<p>

"Morning Sleeping Beauty," she says.

"Morning." I can't take my eyes off of him. He's just so cute.

"Though, it sounds like you didn't get all that much beauty sleep last night, did you babe? Edward, make some breakfast for your girlfriend! How do you like your eggs B?"

I sit down next to her, not even trying to hide my smile. Edward reaches down to place a cup of steaming hot coffee in front of me. He kisses me on the cheek and says, "She likes them over easy."

"I bet she does." Emmett chimes in with a loud guffaw.

I'm blushing but I've got a huge grin on my face now. I can't help it. This is perfect. All the people I love, plus Mike Newton, in one room eating breakfast like it's no big deal.

"What does that even mean?" I say, but this time, I accept the hand proffered and high five him back. Edward sets a plate in front of me, piled high with eggs, beans, slices of creamy avocado on fragrant corn tortillas, all of this topped off by a bright salsa speckled green with cilantro. Edward places the skillet of hash browns in the center of the table. He doesn't need to ask if anyone wants potatoes because the answer of course, is yes. I break into the egg with my fork, letting the creamy yolk melt into the tart salsa verde. I take a bite and have to close my eyes it's so good.

I turn to Edward who is now sitting next to me. "This is amazing. How did you…? We didn't have any food in the house." I'd been neglecting the more mundane tasks of late, like shopping for food. They didn't seem like a priority in light of our current situation.

"We had those old ass ramps." Rose offers.

"I went to the store this morning." The image of Edward, laden with grocery bags, climbing up the stairs to my apartment pops into my mind and it makes me inordinately happy.

Emmett, helping himself to another round of potatoes says, "Dude, these hash browns are ridiculous. And get this Bella, he made the salsa from scratch. Can we keep him?"

Emmett and Rose don't cook. I was surprised pretty early on to discover that they viewed a home-cooked meal as something mysterious, to only be attempted by experts. Rose had been living on whole grain cereal and fruit and take-out from the vegan restaurant down the street before I moved in. Every few weeks or so, she comes home with a box of produce from the co-op and vows to learn how to cook but never gets around to it. It's no surprise that Edward's food is something of a revelation.

I turn to Rose. "Maybe? Is it okay with you if Edward stays here...for a while?" She flicks her eyes to Edward, and then back to me.

"Sure. He can stay...as long as you want him to B."

A welcome and a warning at the same time. Very Rosalie Hale. I refrain from hugging her, for which she is grateful. "Thanks Rose."

"Thank you. I can't tell you...how much I appreciate all you've done for me. For both of us." Edward says.

Rose waves her hand at both of us. "Just don't make me regret it. And don't wear shoes in the house." She and I both look down in unison at his feet. His sexy bare feet. "Speaking of wearing out your welcome..." She turns to look at Mike who is oblivious, shoveling black beans into his mouth and texting at the same time.

"And keep cooking!" Emmett adds. "Damn girl. You didn't tell us he could cook."

"He cooks. He builds furniture. He chops wood. He does a lot of things," I say. A few of which are not suitable for breakfast table conversation. I blush lightly at this, which does not go unnoticed by Edward. He winks at me. Oh God, even his winks are sexy.

"I love a man that's good with his hands." Emmett purrs.

Emmett is probably twice the size of Edward, especially now, but he looks a little in awe.

"Don't you have a job to go to Em?"

"I do. I should be heading out. What's for dinner Eddie?"

I see Edward wince slightly at the moniker, but he answers, "Ramps".

Emmett kisses Rose goodbye and picks up Mike by the scruff of his neck. "C'mon Newton, time to face the music." Oh yeah. Poor Mike.

Mike at least doesn't seem all that disturbed by his still unemployed status. "It's cool man. I think this is a sign I just need to focus on making beats for a while. A job would get in the way of that." He polishes off the last of the potatoes, and then he and Emmett leave.

I eye the almost full coffee cup in front of Edward.

"Did you eat?"

He shakes his head. "Maybe later."

I should call Carlisle again. Soon. The kitchen is much quieter now, just the sound of Rose typing and the low radio in the background. When I finish, I stand to clean up but Edward takes my plate from me and gently pushes me back into my seat.

"B, there's something I need to tell you. Edward you're going to want to hear this too."

We both turn to her, my heart sinking into my stomach. He sets the plate into the sink and comes back to the table.

"Banner's wife filed a missing person's report just an hour ago. It looks like no one has seen him since you disappeared." She turns the laptop around so that we can see the screen.

"Does that mean...he's skipped town?" I ask.

"Possibly. Though, they found his car in the lot. Along with his cell phone and credit cards. I don't know what it means, other than the dude is going off the grid."

A thought occurs to me but, no. That would be too crazy...The cops aren't after him. Why would he skip town? As far as anyone knows he's just a psychiatrist. A family man with a cushy job and a nice five bedroom house in the suburbs. But still, the abrupt disappearance, no car or money or phone. I look at Edward, who looks paler than usual. What if...he's been kidnapped?


	32. Chapter 32

Thank you all. Getting back into writing this and reading your comments has been a highlight of this year for me. I wish a safe, happy, and healthy 2014 for you and all your loved ones. :)

* * *

><p>This is awkward. Carlisle and Edward are sitting on opposite sides of this table reading printed copies of Banner's file. I've read most of it already, and I can guess the exact moment Carlisle gets to the part where Banner suggests that Carlisle may have sexually and physically abused his son, by the hard set of his jaw and the rise in color. I'm trying not to stare, I doubt either of these men would notice though, being too engrossed in the reading material. It's just that, they look so similar. Not just the same jawline, brow, the straight nose. There's an echo in the way they both move, a symmetry in the expressions, the way they each clutch the thick stack of papers.<p>

Edward pushes his chair back and stands up abruptly. He's patting his chest for the pack, slipping a cigarette between his lips.

"Esme doesn't like smoking in the house—"

Edward, cigarette lit, is already headed to the back porch. I glance down at his stack of papers. I catch the words, "...dysfunctional, unhealthy sexual attachments, inability to maintain healthy relationships, sexual or otherwise..." Oh. I don't blame him.

Carlisle stares at his son's retreating back for a moment. He leans back in his chair and closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. He looks suddenly ten years older.

"I've been trying to get him to quit," I say.

He sighs. "It doesn't matter. He could smoke two cartons a day and it wouldn't make a difference."

"What do you mean?"

"His unique physiology. Each month..." Carlisle opens his eyes to look at me curiously.

"...Each month, when he transforms..." He pauses. "It's excruciating. The bones, muscles...his entire body is destroyed and rebuilt all in one night."

I won't ever be able to forget that terrible sound, the crunch of bones breaking, the tearing of flesh and blood. His screams of agony. To go through that twice in one night, every full moon...I don't know how he bears it. He has no choice but to bear it. My heart aches to think of him, enduring this for twenty long years now. And for Carlisle to have to be witness to his child enduring this awful ordeal, and to be completely helpless, unable to make the pain go away. To have to see it again and again, and to know there is no end.

"Without his ability to heal quickly, Edward would never survive the change. He can't get sick really, because his body won't allow it. Homeostasis for Edward is human, in peak physical condition, that's zero for him. The monthly transformation of wolf back to human is akin to a reset button."

"So...does this mean Edward should be back to normal by next month?"

"I hope so. Typically, I'd say even less time than that, with his accelerated healing. Of course, things like...gunshot wounds for instance," at this he looks askance at me, "would take longer to heal. But what disturbs me is he's never been this sick before. He's never been sick ever. So I'm wondering if we're dealing with something entirely different. He should have been back to normal with this full moon."

I look out the window at Edward who is sitting on the deck chair outside, his back to us. It looks exactly like one of the adirondack chairs at his cabin. He is hearing all of this. Probably already knows all of this. I wonder if this brief honeymoon period of the last eighteen hours of so is just that. Brief. Fleeting. Edward is highly sensitive, probably more aware of his body than anyone. Does he know something we don't? Is his sudden willingness to try to have a relationship with me...is it because he knows something far more terrible than I ever would consider is happening? I push the thought from my brain. No. I won't consider it. We are not done fighting.

"What about the drugs, all those things Banner prescribed?"

Carlisle glances down at the file in front of him. He dismisses this concern with a wave of his hand. "Anti-depressants and anti-anxiety meds. And one used to treat schizophrenia. It's a not unreasonable treatment for someone suffering from clinical lycanthropy, if that was the case. These were designed to keep Edward docile, I'd imagine. Though they wouldn't have the side effects he seems to be exhibiting. We actually don't know if what's in Edward's file is an accurate record of his treatment. They could just be for show, for the hospital administration. Or he could have been building a case against Edward, to keep him locked down."

"If it's not the drugs, what do you think it is?"

Carlisle is silent a long time. I wonder if he has heard me. Or if I just imagined asking the question out loud.

"I don't know."

Somehow, those three words are scarier than anything. I had pinned my hopes on Carlisle. That he'd know exactly what to do. That somehow he'd have the magic bullet that would make all of our problems disappear. He's just a man. A father scared for his son.

"You've seen it?" The wolf, he means.

"I saw him turn back. Yes."

"How?"

I don't know how to answer this without getting Edward in trouble. Well, not in trouble exactly, but his father already believes he's behaved recklessly and I don't want to give him additional ammunition.

"It was my fault. Edward was really careful, it was actually during the second full moon that I found out, I never would have known. He went through his usual precautions, but I tracked him down and accidentally let him out."

He nods, looking down at the stack of paper in front of him. "And you don't have a problem with his...condition? You do realize a relationship with Edward comes with certain...difficulties."

"We all have baggage."

"Yes. But this is beyond the usual concerns that might arise in a normal relationship."

I'm getting a little annoyed but I don't want to snap at him for being so patronizing. I know he's just trying to do the best by his son, but for fuck's sake. He doesn't have to tell me that. I've been living it for months now.

"Carlisle. I know. I'm aware of the dangers involved. For all of us. Look, Edward didn't fall out of that building and break his ribs by accident. He did it to protect me."

"To protect you from himself."

"He was willing to sacrifice his life for me. And...I would do the same for him."

I don't have to think about this as the words fall from my lips. Suddenly it is very clear to me that I had been foolish in my doubt. This was me, second guessing, not trusting myself, not believing I was someone worth loving. How could I be so blind to what was right in front of me? I should have seen it, should have known. Edward has never said as much, but from the beginning he's been showing me, through deed, through action, to denial of his own desire, the depth of his devotion. He's sacrificed his body, his happiness, his own life, to keep me safe. He's still sacrificing himself. Loving me goes against every single instinct for self-preservation he possesses.

All of this. All of this has been for me. Because he loves me.

"I just want you to know what you are getting into. It will be difficult. Is it worth it? All the fear, the pain, the potential for death? The fact that you may never be able to bear his child? You can't ever hope for a normal life with Edward."

"Is he worth it? Yes. Absolutely."

He doesn't believe me. He's not going to let this go. Why is it so difficult for him to accept that I love Edward? I can't believe I'm doing this, but there's no other way.

"Was she worth it?"

"What?"

"Your wife. Edward's mother."

His blue eyes are cold with fury. I know I have no right to talk about her, but I have to make him understand. I see his hands clench into fists, white knuckled.

"You knew she was a werewolf. And you loved her anyway. Do you regret it?"

I'm a little terrified right now, but I steel myself and hold his gaze. slowly, he relaxes, the jaw loosens. He seems to sink into his seat a little, defeated.

"No. I don't regret it. I loved her. I still do. I never stopped. And I loved the son she left me...I would love her all over again, even knowing what I know." He turns to me, eyes soft. "You're just so young. I don't want to see you get hurt. I don't want to see Edward get hurt."

"I won't ever hurt him."

"And if someday you stop loving him?"

I hadn't considered this. It never seemed a possibility. But I see now the fear in Carlisle, not just about the conflicts that might arise from us being in a relationship, but what could happen if there was a bad break-up. If I was the kind of person out to seek revenge. I could effectively destroy his life. Have him locked up in an underground government lab for the rest of his days.

"I won't hurt him Carlisle. You just have to take my word for it."

He stands up, filling a kettle, setting it on a burner, and pulling two mugs down.

"Would you like some tea?"

I nod. "Rooibos please."

Tea is what you offer when you don't want to look at the other person for a while. It's something to do with your hands. The time water takes to boil is the exact amount of time needed to compose your face. He turns back to me, setting the WBEZ mug in front of me. Carlisle's is chipped, with "Dad" painted on the side in a crude, childish scrawl.  
>Edward walks in the house, he looks down at the table and then comes straight toward me and pulls the mug from my hand.<p>

"Did he make this?"

"Yes?"

He walks to the sink and pours the contents of the mug down the drain.

"Edward. Come now. Was that necessary?" Carlisle protests.

He ignores this, taking my hand and pulling me to my feet. He grabs my coat and sets it around my shoulders.

"We're going home."

"Edward, I would never...The results. Eugene is sending them over in just a few hours...just wait until then."

Edward acts like he hasn't heard this. My hand held firmly in his hand he starts to pull me to the door.

"Baby...I think we should...your blood work..."I trail off.

He stands there seething. It's clear as day that it physically pains him to be in the same room as his father right now. But he hasn't dragged me out the house yet because I am reluctant to go. He stares at the floor, his mouth set in a thin hard line. Furious. I don't know what has triggered this. Carlisle looks a little angry, the color high in his cheeks.

"Carlisle, you'll call us right? If you hear anything."

He nods.

"Okay. Come on Edward. Let's go home."

We take the train back. Edward, nearly has a bit of meltdown trying to operate the new Ventra system. Like a true Chicagoan. I take the card from him and wave it in front of the sensor, and just hold my breath and hope for the best until the light turns green and he can pass through the turnstile. I don't know what to make of what just happened. From the corner of my eye, I see a flash of blonde hair and turn around quickly, thinking perhaps Carlisle has followed us. But Edward's father is no where to be seen in the mass of commuters streaming in and out of the station. He's still waiting for that phone call. He wouldn't come.

We wait for the el on the rickety wooden platform. It's April but the air is still frigid and they've turned off the heatlamps for the year. I hop around a little, to try to ease my shivering. Edward takes my hands and puts them around his waist, wrapping his coat around me for warmth. The heat just radiates from him. I press my cheek against his chest and...it's perfect here. All around us is the chatter of too loud cell phone conversations, teenagers laughing, the clink clink of blind buskers. And we are immune to them in our cocoon spun of wool and down, our breath like smoke in the chill air.  
>For the first time in my life I feel not so alone. I have a warm place to come home to, good friends, and someone to love. Someone who loves me back.<p>

It's perfect.

I don't ask until we are back at my apartment.

"What happened back there?"

He shrugs off the coat, then takes mine and hangs them in the closet. And then he sits down and carefully unlaces his boots. Not lifting his eyes to me, he says quietly, "He used to slip drugs in my food."

"What?" He knows I've heard him and doesn't repeat it. I think he must be joking. But Edward doesn't joke. Shocked and horrified, I can't think of anything to say. I knew about the tranquilizers. I just thought they were always voluntary. And then the thought occurs to me that Carlisle may have put something in my drink and Edward must have sensed it or something, but why would he do such a thing?

"Did your Dad slip something in my tea?"

Edward shakes his head.

"Then why did you throw it out?"

"Habit."

I guess this explains Edward's extreme control freak tendencies in the kitchen. I had noticed that on the few occasions that I did cook, he would always watch. I always assumed he just liked looking at my ass. I never would have guessed he was making sure I didn't...interfere with his food.

"How long did it go on? Him drugging you?"

"'Til I was fifteen." It looks like he's listening for Rose or Emmett, but it appears we are alone again. For now. He doesn't even look angry. More embarrassed, I think.

"You don't have to talk about this now Edward." I trace his jawline, now soft with his red-gold beard. It's the longest it's been since he let me shave it off so many months ago. It grows so fast, he's got at least three inches of beard and a half inch of hair on his head. I think of that stranger, hidden under all that hair when we first met. He was in hiding. Cut off from humanity. Barely human anymore. That's got to be a good thing, his hair growing back so quickly. It has to mean he's healing.

"Are you growing your beard out?"

He shakes his head, scratching his chin. "No. They wouldn't let me have a razor at the hospital."

I leave him in the bathroom with a new pink razor, and a bottle of shave gel. I don't know what to do with myself now. It feels odd, getting back into the normal routine. What do normal people do all day? What is Edward going to do here, besides running from the law and a possibly sociopathic psychiatrist? Will he get a job? I can't see him in an office. And he doesn't seem particularly computer savvy, although I could be wrong. Rosalie is probably still working at the coffee shop. Making herself scarce, for my sake. I look at my own, long abandoned laptop. It has a fine layer of dust covering it. The idea of continuing my vampire novel seems laughable at this point.

He emerges from the bathroom looking lighter, more like himself. He's still too thin of course, we'll have to figure out a way to get Edward some food that his body can keep down. But he looks ten times better than he did just a few days ago. I hope Carlisle is right, that all Edward needs is time.

I can't resist that face, that clean, beautiful jawline. I push him to sit on the bed, while I apply facial lotion to his skin. He rolls his eyes, but he indulges me. Really it's just an excuse for me to touch his face. I trace the lines of his lips with my Kiehl's lip balm. These full pink lips. How can a person be so beautiful? Grabbing my wrist with one hand, he pulls me down until we are face to face, less than an inch apart. He touches his lips to mine, so soft.

"He's wrong you know. Your Dad."

He shakes his head. "No. Everything he said is true." He looks down at our clasped hands. "I wanted you to know the risks involved...being with someone like me. But I was wrong before. I'm not going to make the decision for you anymore. I'm giving you the choice."

To leave him. Or to love him. If I said I wanted it, he would go without a single word of protest. It's so easy for him to believe that I would reject him. We could walk away and avoid all the pain and hurt that if I'm really honest, I know is sure to come. But there will always be some obstacle, even in a normal relationships. You can't predict the future, you can't plan for it.

He waits, his face so open to me, I can read him as clear as black lines in a book. Hurt, fear...hope.

As if there was ever a choice.

"I choose you Edward. Always."

If Edward is trying to win Rosalie Hale and Emmett McCarty over, he's succeeding. Killing it actually. He pulls another pizza hot out of the oven and slides it onto the cutting board. He's improvised a pizza stone with a layer of unglazed terra cotta tiles he found in the garage and scrubbed thoroughly. It's ridiculous. The crust is caramelized and charred in all the right places, with just the right amount of chew, and thin and crispy toward the center. He condescends to allow me to scatter four large basil leaves over it the melted fresh mozzarella and bright red tomato sauce. That's my only job. And then he drizzles olive oil, cracks fresh black pepper and then a light dusting if sea salt over it and it is ready to be eaten. The sea salt, he bought this morning of course. I imagine he took one look at my plain old iodized salt and deemed it unacceptable.

Rose and Em watch in awe, the salad, which is actually quite good, is momentarily abandoned. I slice the pizza with a sharp knife, the crust making a satisfying crunch as I cut through to the wooden cutting board. Even Rose doesn't make a pathetic attempt to dab at her pizza with a napkin. This pie is perfect and she knows it. We all take a bite, ignoring the heat, and almost moan in unison.

"He can stay. Forever." Rose says, mouth full.

"Marry me." Emmett exclaims.

Edward doesn't hang around to watch. He's already on to the next ball of dough. Four perfect balls in separate bowls, rising since this afternoon. That means four more pizzas. I can't wait. He stretches the dough easily, fluently, as if he'd been doing it all his life, until it is a rough circle, the center so thin you could read a newspaper through it if you wanted to.

"Dude, can I try?" Emmett asks.

"No." Edward says, not unkindly, but there's no room for misinterpretation. He ladles a few spoons of the raw tomato sauce, spreading it out, leaving a short rim of unadorned dough.

"Edward gets a little...territorial in the kitchen. It's nothing personal." I explain.

"That's fine by me. He can have the kitchen," Rose says.

My phone rings in the living room. I dash out to pick it up.

"Hi Esme."

"Hi honey, how are you? Is this a bad time?"

"No, it's fine. Edward is making us pizza, but I can talk for a minute."

"Oh his pizza is just wonderful, isn't it? It's been so long since I had his cooking."

"We should have you over sometime." We. I love that I'm already thinking of us as a unit. A dinner party with the parents. There's nothing more normal than that. If, that is, Edward and Carlisle can stand to be in the same room for longer than an hour.

"I would love that. How is Edward?"

"You didn't talk to Carlisle?" I check the clock. I'm surprised hasn't called yet. The best case scenario is he got the blood work back and it was normal. Let's hope.

"Not yet. I'm still at the office. It looks like I'll be here a few hours longer."

"So what's up?"

Esme is the opposite of Edward in terms of volubility, so when she doesn't answer I think the connection has been lost. Then I hear some nervous throat clearing and she starts speaking but I can't follow, and then finally I have to interrupt and ask her what exactly is going on.

"Bella. I'm sorry honey, I've got some bad news..."

My heart drops. Everything is perfect now. My roommate and Emmett are getting along with Edward. And we were just about to sit down together and share this lovely meal that he has prepared. He built a freaking pizza stone. I don't want to hear her bad news.

Mustering all he courage I can gather, I ask, "What is it?"

"I...I'm sorry Bella. I don't know how it happened. There must have been a leak at the office, or else my computer had been hacked but...someone posted the manuscript for your novel online."

They posted my...? Oh. I'm so relieved I can't formulate a response. She takes my silence for shock and despair and apologizes some more. I should say something now.

"It's okay Esme. It's not your fault," I manage to squeak out.

"I just know how hard you've worked on this. I've discussed this with my bosses and we completely understand if you don't want to continue. As this was an egregious error on our part, you will not be held to your contract to finish this series. We can regroup tomorrow and figure out or next course of action. I'm sorry honey, this must be such a devastating blow."

"It is...a surprise."

"I know how eager you were to continue the story."

"It's okay Esme. I'll figure something out. Actually I think I might have a few ideas about what I'd like to write next."

I feel a little guilty. But I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Bless Angela. For leaking the manuscript and keeping quiet about my identity. It's been a few days now. If she hasn't said anything to the authorities by now, it's doubtful she ever will. My last loose end, neatly tied up in a bow. Esme apologizes a few more times before I can extricate myself from the phone call. I feel about thirty pounds lighter as I come back to the warmth of the kitchen.

"...how do you feel about Hawaiian pizza? The little chunks of ham and pineapple..." Emmett inquires.

Edward shudders, visibly. "Fuck Hawaiian pizza," he mutters. Emmett catches this and guffaws loudly.

"Who was that?" Rosalie asks.

"Esme. Work stuff, nothing important."

She takes another bite. "This is the best damned pizza I've ever eaten."

"What about deep dish?" asks Emmett. I know for a fact that this is his favorite. That two-inch thick, tomato and cheese casserole that somehow has incorrectly been passing itself off as pizza in this part of the country.

"Fuck deep dish." Edward says loud enough so we can all hear. He punches the air out of a ball of dough with his fist and then drapes a dish towel over it.

"Not even Pequod's?"

He walks up to Emmett. Leans in close to his ear and says in a low voice, "Fuck Pequod's. Pequod's smells like feet." Oh boy. Edward just insulted Emmett McCarty's place of worship. They are eye to eye, and for a moment it looks like they might fight...or kiss. But then a wide, infectious grin breaks out on Em's face, and he claps Edward on the back.

"I like you! I'm glad Bella kidnapped you!"

"Me too." He catches my eye, a small smile on his face.

He's got a little smudge of flour on his cheek. I dust it off lightly and he captures my hand and kisses it. And then he sends me back to the kitchen table with a gentle smack on the bottom.

Rose is making kissy faces at me. I give her the finger because I am a mature adult. Not to be outdone, she curls her hand into an "o" and slides up and down my extended middle finger, the universal sign for "doing it". Touché. We both collapse in to giggles.

"Okay. I'll admit it. I was wrong."

"You. Were. Wrong."

She rolls her eyes.

"Can you say that again? I want to get it on video."

"B, not another word. Can you blame me? This," she gestures at Edward's back. His finely muscled back, now clad in a threadbare white tee-shirt and my apron tied around his waist. "Doesn't look good on paper."

I nod.

"But...I can see it now." She shifts her grip to hold my hand and gives it a little squeeze. "It feels right. You two feel right. I'm just really happy that you're happy."

"I am. Thanks Rose."

"And I am beginning to see what you see in Eddie over there. He looks much better without that beard."

"Aww, I kind of liked the beard."

She raises her eyebrows and I blush. "I bet you did." She leans in conspiratorially and whispers, "You think Em would look good with one?"

"I don't know. Probably."

"Probably what?" Emmett asks. Seeing that I am occupied, Edward has transferred the menial job of basil placement to Emmett.

"You'd look good with your hair grown out."

He scratches at his short, buzzed head. "Nah. Too high maintenance. Right dude?"

Edward is looking at Emmett's hands. He points at the sink for Emmett to wash them again.

"Edward has gorgeous hair. I used to cut it for him."

"If it's so glorious, then why did you shave it dude?"

"I don't remember." His brow a little furrowed, he resumes his work at the counter.  
>The last of the pizzas out of the oven, Edward sits down next to me at the kitchen table. I take a slice, place it on a plate and slide it towards him.<p>

"Try it. Just a little."

Rose and Emmett are discreet enough to look away and get into a silly argument, just so he doesn't feel so under the microscope. His eyes drop to the plate and he swallows thickly.

"It's delicious. Just a bite. If you feel sick we can stop."

I turn back to my plate. Trying not to watch as he takes a small bite and chews. And swallows. And waits. And then he eats the whole thing. Then another slice. And another. Until he has consumed the an entire pizza.

My roommates are high-fiving Edward. Fist bumping. Emmett cries out, "Woohoo!"

Woohoo indeed.

Edward looks at me and he smiles. And he eats.


	33. Chapter 33

Senna, Esme's assistant comes from behind her computer to wrap her arms around me, enveloping me in her halo of caramel highlighted braids and perfume. A little surprised at her sudden display of affection, I am momentarily frozen.

"I'm so sorry Bella," she says after letting me free. I smile sheepishly. I feel so guilty, being the recipient of all these consoling words from kind, well intentioned people, when I couldn't be happier about the outcome of my manuscript leaking. I don't trust my voice to sound sufficiently or convincingly traumatized, and I know I'm a terrible liar. Or maybe it's just that Edward can read me so well. I remain quiet, eyes downcast, making a gesture with my shoulders that I hope conveys sad resignation and an acceptance of this twist if fate that life has dealt me. C'est la vie.

"She's waiting for you."

I straighten my back and make that short march to Esme's office. Senna may have bought that little performance back there but I suspect Esme will not. I knock once, and after hearing a muffled, "Come in," I let myself in.

Esme's office is surprisingly small for what I'd imagine a senior editor's office should look like. The gray carpet tiles have seen better days, but she's got a whole wall of windows with a view of the Chicago river, which is pleasant enough as long as you don't think too hard about the contents of said river. There are touches of Esme all over the room though, from the small framed oils on the wall behind her desk and the pile of Barney's shopping bags tossed in a corner, to the slightly threadbare green velvet settee in the corner. She gathers me up into my second hug of the day and then sits me down at the couch with a bottle of water.

"Do you want something stronger? I've got coffee, or tea, or if you want, white wine?"

It's not even nine yet and she's offering me alcohol. She must be really nervous. "Um, no thanks. Water is fine."

She launches into a lengthy apology, going into detail about the investigation that is underway to discover the culprit that leaked it, and then more apologies. I have to cut in midway through this speech because I am just dying. Dying of shame and guilt and feeling like pretty much the worst person in the world right now because the culprit in question is now sitting directly across from her. I didn't put it on the internet, but I may as well have. I need to redirect her attention.

"Seriously Esme. It's okay. I have...made my peace with it and actually, I think this might actually be a blessing in disguise?"

"What do you mean sweetie?"

"Well...I think my book might work better as a standalone novel. To keep it going for two, three more books, I'd have to invent all sorts of artificial reasons to keep my protagonists apart, like a love triangle that no one cares about. It might get a bit tiresome for the reader?" She's nodding her head. "And since this book is geared at teenagers, there's a certain limit to what I'm allowed to write about. All this build-up, and then...fade to black. So I was considering writing something new, something more adult?"

My publisher Rockhopper, is a small, very successful imprint of the publishing giant Empire Books. They do churn out several dozen young adult titles every year, but their most lucrative genre, the one that finances Esme's trips to Barneys, is romance.

"You want to try your hand at adult romance?"

"Yes. Specifically paranormal...erotica." I can my cheeks burning.

Esme smiles knowingly at me. "I think I can make a guess or two at who might have sparked your new found interest in that particular genre."

In more ways than she could imagine. He may have "sparked my interest" this morning before my meeting. Twice. I can't even speak right now. I wish I could just drown in the cushions of this couch, have my entire body swallowed up in swaths of green velvet.

She pats my knee. "This is great honey. Very exciting. And I'm happy for you. For both of you. You can stop blushing dear."

Shaking my head, I still can't quite meet her eyes yet, so I take a swig of water. She seems a little more exuberant, relieved that I'm not as devastated as she'd expected.

"Speaking of...where is that handsome boyfriend of yours?"

Boyfriend. It still gives me a little thrill to hear that word in reference to Edward. "Carlisle's office. We were supposed to get the blood work back yesterday."

It's strange, Edward was very vague when he got off the phone with his father this morning. No news about the results, he was terse as usual, assuring me everything was fine. And then made plans to meet Carlisle at the outpatient center where his other office was located on the north side. I was nervous about leaving those two alone, but the rest of my life can't stop just because Edward is here. Besides, they managed to live together for nearly two decades without killing each other. I'm sure they can survive a few hours. So I kissed him goodbye and left early this morning for my meeting with Esme in the loop. He didn't know how long he'd be, but he was supposed to call if he'd be gone past dinner.

"Hmm...Carlisle hadn't mentioned it."

That's a pretty odd thing to not tell your wife. And peculiar that Esme hadn't been pestering Carlisle, or Edward for that matter, for information this entire time. Either she has a huge blindspot when it comes to these two men, or there's something I'm not catching.

"How is Edward?"

"He's getting better, I think. I hope. The headaches and nausea aren't so bad. He was able to keep food down last night...Not so much this morning." I was overambitious. Plying Edward with every breakfast food imaginable. And he ate it. And promptly threw it all up shortly after.

"I'm worried about him. He's so thin. He was always lean, even as a teenager, but never like this."

"Yeah." I look down at the gray carpet.

"And how are those broken ribs?"

"They're nearly healed, I think."

"That boy has a way of bouncing back. I don't think I've seen him ill a day in his life. You could say his immune system must be...superhuman."

I slowly raise my eyes to her own sharp, green ones. There's no mirth, she is dead serious. Esme is not looking away, scanning my face for recognition. Oh my God.

"How much do you know Bella?"

My first instinct is to deny deny deny. I shake my head. I can't. It's not my secret to tell. I press my lips tighter together, as if by doing so I can keep him hidden inside me. She moves to sit next to me on the couch, grasping my hand lightly.

"It's okay honey. You don't have to say anything. I know how they are. I love them to death but they can be stubborn asses. I just wasn't sure if Edward told you and I didn't want to out him, but it seems he has. As far as I can tell, it's only my husband that knows. And maybe those old roommates of his."

She knows. But before I blurt anything out, I want to make sure we're talking about the same thing here.

"Esme...what exactly do you think Edward has told me?"

She stands up and opens her office door briefly to check for anyone hovering nearby, and then closing it and locking it behind her.

"That he's a werewolf."

When I get home, the apartment is unusually quiet. And freezing. The windows in our front room are open wide, letting in a steady stream of cold air. I push the windows closed and lock them. I find Rose bundled up with a woolen blanket wrapped around herself in her bedroom. I'm standing in the doorway and a few minutes pass before she finally looks up from her laptop and spots me, pulling off the large black headphones off her head.

"It's freezing in here."

"I'll close the windows in a moment. I tried to scramble some eggs this morning and burnt them. So I had to air out the apartment. Smoke everywhere."

"Well, the smell is gone now. How on Earth do you mess up scrambled eggs?"

"Some knucklehead, a recent roommate perhaps? Wore his shoes in the house and tracked dirt all over my pristine floor. So I was busy cleaning up his mess and forgot about the eggs. In addition to that, he also left the back door unlocked, probably after puffing on those cancer sticks he loves so much."

Actually, according to Carlisle, those "cancer sticks" are as harmful as chewing gum to Edward. But this is not the time. Also, it seems highly unlikely that Edward would be that careless, but I don't want him back on her shit list after just narrowly being promoted to "tolerable" in Rosalie's eyes. I'm pretty sure the knucklehead in question is the repeat offender Emmett McCarty, who has a habit of cutting through the back alleyway to get to the El in the morning.

"I'm sorry, I promise it won't happen again. I don't think he's lived with other people in a long time. But I'll tell him tonight."

"Alright. How did your meeting go?"

I flop down next to her on the bed. "Illuminating."

Esme swore me to secrecy after she casually dropped the bombshell that she had known about Edward for years, but went along with the lie because father and son weren't ready to admit the truth to her yet. She wanted to give them the space to come to her, in their own time. I don't quite get her reasoning, but I've only been introduced into this complicated web of secrets recently and Esme's been dealing with it for over a decade now. And I, of all people, should know how easy it is to get stuck in patterns of behavior, no matter how illogical or unhealthy they may be. My head is still swirling from our conversation, there's so much to think about. Everything is different now.

"I'm off the hook for the vampire stuff. And I got a new deadline for the new book I'm writing."

She arches a single brow at me. "Let me guess...this one's gonna be about werewolves?"

I smile. "I'm not sure what I'm going to do yet. But it feels good, like a fresh start."

"You planned all this didn't you? It all comes full circle. The hospital, the werewolf stuff, this was all an elaborate ruse to get out of writing that damned book."

"Yup."

A few hours later, it is not quite dinnertime and I am quietly going a little nuts waiting for Edward to come home or call at least. He could be en route, but he has no phone so of course he can't call. What if something has happened to him? My mind immediately runs through the worst possible scenarios. After putting up with my nervous pacing for so long, Rose finally calls out from her bedroom, "Just call the office already."

"I don't want to seem too...desperate."

"But you are." she says, appearing in the doorway.

"Maybe. I don't know. What do normal people do to pass the time? I can't remember."

"They work, eat crap and watch garbage tv, have sex...well, we all know you've been doing plenty of that lately."

"I haven't! "

"Bullshit. I've heard you B. Em's heard you. Hell, Mike Newton's heard you."

I flush crimson. "Well, technically we haven't had sex here. Just...you know."

"Anal?"

"Rose!"

"I don't judge. Sex positivity over here." I throw a pillow at her, which she easily dodges.

"No P in V. Got it. You must have some serious willpower."

"I want to, believe me, I do. He's just really cautious because of...well, my birth control doesn't kick in for a few more days anyway."

"You know that stuff is only like, 98% effective, and that's with perfect usage. The only method that is 100% effective is abstinence. And anal."

"I'm thinking of switching to something more reliable, and longterm. Like the shot or an IUD or something."

"He knows right? About your..."

I nod. He knows. "I told him. The morning after we brought him home from the hospital. Edward doesn't want to run the risk of passing on the gene. And with what happened to his mom...I don't blame him."

I stare at the newly cleaned floors, not sure what else to say. The thought of Edward holding a little fat green-eyed baby has crossed my mind, unbidden, more than once. It's terrifying...and more alluring than I would ever admit, surprising even myself. But I know this is something that can never happen. He will never father a child willingly. This is the sacrifice that Edward is making for that imaginary child. He wouldn't want to foist this terrible burden on an innocent, the way it was done to him. And after seeing all the pain, the shame his condition has caused him, I wouldn't wish it upon another person either.

"Damn."

"Yeah."

"This just got really heavy all of a sudden. I've got a pilates class in twenty minutes. You wanna come? By the time we get back, the knuckleheads will be home and maybe, miraculously there will be dinner on the table."

Ugh. Exercise. But if I don't do something with myself, I'm going to drive myself crazy.

"No thanks on the pilates. But I think I'm going to run some errands instead. Do we need anything?"

I stop by Target and pick up a few things Edward might require: razors for his beard, shave cream, boy deodorant, undershirts, and briefs. I add electric clippers to my basket, in case he wants me to cut his hair, if it ever gets long enough to. Some half-formed question is niggling in the back of my mind, but it is gone before I can articulate it. I should clear out a drawer for him to put his few belongings. He's been living out of that duffle bag filled with a strange mix of teenage Edward's old clothes and his father's hand me downs. It seems so sad and transient.

I want a more permanent arrangement. I want all the joys and inconvenience of shared domestic life. I loved waking up this morning and smelling his scent upon my pillow. I want to get annoyed with him for the dirty socks thrown carelessly on the floor instead on in the hamper. I want to get comfortable, bored even. I want to be secure enough that every time we're apart I know it will not be the last time I see him.

Standing in the hallway, about to fit my key into the lock, I quietly take in the sound of voices and movement in my apartment. It feels like coming home. Edward's not a particularly loud person, but Emmett is and he loves having this fascinating new friend to pester with questions.

Edward is sitting in a chair, a blindfold wrapped around his eyes. I recognize it as one of Emmett's striped ties. What is going on here? I catch Emmett's eyes and he holds a finger to his lips. He disappears into Rose's room with a plastic Tupperware container.

If Edward has noticed me, he gives no indication. I slip soundlessly out of my shoes and walk around to face him. He has no right to look so good blindfolded. It's giving me all sorts of lascivious thoughts that aren't at all convenient with my roommate's boyfriend doing who know's what in the next room. But right now, all I want to do is kiss those too pretty lips. So I do. And he kisses me back, soft and sweet. I close my eyes, inhaling his familiar scent.

He reaches out and grasps my hand. In a low, sexy voice he asks, "Emmett, is that you?"

I try to pull away, indignant, but he wraps an arm around my waist and drags me down to his lap, holding me tightly so that I can't escape. He slips the blindfold off and tosses it on the ground, feigning surprise.

"Oh. It's you."

"Let me go!"

"I was wondering why Emmett's lips were so much softer than I remembered."

I squirm and wriggle but his grip is like iron. "Don't sound so happy to see me."

I feel a slow drag of rough stubble along the nape of my neck. Teeth lightly nibbling at my earlobe. Oh. He whispers low in my ear, "I am. Very happy. Keep moving like that baby." Before I realize what's happening, he spins me around so that I am straddling his lap. I kiss him again, tasting, touching, his hands traveling freely all over my body.

"Hey! No dry humping in the living room." Emmett has reappeared, hands behind his back. Reluctantly, I break away from Edward. He's smiling at me, steals another kiss, oblivious to Em.

"Okay, lovebirds, that's enough of that. Bella, if you're going to interfere with the test subject, please make yourself useful at least. Blindfold please." Emmett's a math guy, works in finance, so his latest hobby has been devising methods to test the extent of Edward's abilities. Edward has been a pretty good sport about it, surprisingly. Curiosity perhaps, or maybe he just likes Emmett.

I reach down to pick up the abandoned tie on the ground, tying it around Edward's handsome face. I make a mental note to steal that tie. There's a sound at the door. Rosalie's home. She looks from me straddling my boyfriend, to Edward with the blindfold, to Emmett.

"Do I even want to know?" she asks.

"We're experimenting."

"What are you experimenting with Em? If you say your sexual boundaries, I'm out of here."

"Just watch." He walks forward to a spot in the living room, designated by a line of masking tape on the floor about 20 feet from where Edward is sitting. "Okay. Guess."  
>Edward, with hands still circling my waist, lifts his face in the air and inhales deeply.<p>

"Female. Brunette...very pretty." He leans into me and whispers so only I can hear, "Very wet."

I clamp a hand over his mouth. He kisses my palm.

"No shit Sherlock. She's sitting on your lap. Come on, last one. What's in the box?"There's something inside the sealed plastic container. It looks like...old socks?

Edward takes another deep inhale, wrinkling his nose in distaste. "Weed. Wrapped in a dirty sock."

Emmett's face breaks out into a huge grin. "Damn! Ten out of ten!"

Edward pulls the blindfold off. "You should get your money back from Mike, there's a little oregano in that pot."

"I'm gonna kill Newton."

"How long have you guys been at this?" I ask.

"Long enough. I'm done." Edward says, placing a kiss on my jawline. He tugs the elastic from my braid, gently unraveling the plait with his fingers.

"Dude. This is amazing! You could make like, serious bank off of this."

"How?" I ask. Edward, The Human Bloodhound! on a marquee flashes briefly before my eyes and I shudder.

"I don't know. You could do anything, like-"

"Work for airport security. Or find truffles." Rosalie interjects drily. "Or he could sniff out bedbugs. It's very in demand these days."

I turn to give her my dirtiest look, but Edward nods, giving her a lopsided grin. "Not a bad idea. You know, bed bugs have a very distinct scent. I was going to ask..have you had any strange bites on your body lately? Because I thought I smelled..."

Rose the germaphobe's face suddenly drains of color, and she rushes from the room. I know she's stripping the mattress. I turn to him in horror. I know it is just my overactive imagination, but I can already feel them. I wouldn't put it past Rose to set fire to all the bed linens and upholstery in this apartment.

"We don't really...do we?"

"No." He assures me. Edward stands up suddenly, taking me with him, and carries me into my bedroom. "It wouldn't hurt to double check though. Just in case."


	34. Chapter 34

"I should tell Rose," I gasp, in between kisses.

Just as I suspected. No bedbugs. Not that Edward's actually looking. His inspection technique seems to involve a lot of making out. Rosalie is going to kill him, as soon as she finishes tearing her bedroom apart. I should probably nip that in the bud before she gets too deep in her cleaning rampage. I can tell she's still on the fence about him, despite the homemade pizza, and this little prank isn't doing him any favors.

He slides his hands under my shirt, trailing up my spine, expertly unhooking my bra.

"Edward...did you hear me?"

"Mhmm," he murmurs, lightly dragging his teeth along my neck. His hands have found their way to my newly freed breasts and he cups them in his big, callused hands. I shiver lightly, and it takes all of my willpower but I force myself to break off, holding his face away from me.

"Please hold. I need to do some damage control." I kiss him on the cheek and climb off the bed, putting the girls back in place.

Rosalie's room, usually as neat as a monk's cell looks like a war zone. She has stripped her bed, the sheets and duvet in a pile on the ground and she has the mattress leaning against the wall.

"Em, you need to take that mattress down to the alley. And Bella's too. We can sleep in a hotel tonight. No, move them a few streets over, I don't want to take the risk. They jump, you know? Or do you think we should just burn the mattresses?"

"Rose..."

"...I've got a gas can in the back of my car..."

She either doesn't hear me or is too preoccupied to notice. Emmett throws his hands up at me to do something, anything.

"Rose...Rosalie Hale!"

She looks up. "Bella. You need to wash all your bed linens in hot water, clothes, towels, anything those fuckers can hide in. And then dry on high heat too. And we need to burn your mattress. It's a good thing you didn't have any furniture when you moved in..."

"We aren't burning anything. Edward was just kidding about the bedbugs. We don't have them."

"How would you know? I can feel them, crawling on me. I want to take off my skin and bleach it right now."

"I'm sorry. It was just a prank. We really don't have them, I promise."

Her eyes narrow. "Serious?"

"Yes."

Her eyes sweep over the room, surveying the mess.

"Not funny."

"Neither is comparing my boyfriend to a truffle pig."

She considers this, her lips barely able to contain a smile. "C'mon, that was pretty funny."

"So you're even. Besides, I hear you're supposed to rotate your mattress every few months anyway. No harm, no foul."

"Alright. I might have crossed the line there. But you know what?" She directs her voice at the open door," Fuck you Edward Cullen! Don't you dare try to pull that shit again or you are out of here!"

A soft answering chuckle comes from my bedroom.

"And stop wearing your damned shoes in the house!"

I help them return the mattress to Rose's bed frame and tiptoe out of the room, grabbing my purse and my Target bags along the way. Edward is stretched out on my bed, hands under his head looking self-satisfied.

"She hates you."

He smirks. I hand him the plastic bags. "I got you some socks and deodorant and a few other things you might need. We can go shopping later if you want to get clothes or shoes or whatever. Also..." I dig around in my purse for a bit. "Here."

After my trip to Target, I stopped at the little hardware store down the street to get a copy of made of my house keys. It occurred to me that this was possibly a momentous occasion. Maybe I should make a bigger deal of it. I don't know. Nothing about the progression of this relationship has been typical. While I waited for the old Korean man to cut them, I looked through the assortment of keychains for sale. Unfortunately, none of them really effectively communicated "Here are my house keys, please don't freak out." So I settled on a pretty generic one with the Chicago skyline on it, in case he needed a reminder as to what city he was in. He takes them from me.

"Is this moving too fast for you? Because I can take them back."

He slips the keys into the back pocket of his jeans. "Thanks." He kisses me on the cheek.  
>That was easy. Edward pushes the bags to the side and easily lifts me so that I am straddling his hips.<p>

"So...what did you do today? Did your father hear back from the lab?"

He sits up suddenly, hands sliding down my hips to squeeze my ass in both hands. He kisses me, deeply intensely, not waiting to gain entry, he slips his tongue into my mouth. Touching, tasting. I clutch his head in my hands, just trying to hold on. I can't help the involuntary sounds that escape me, and I must be pretty loud because Rosalie yells from her room "Close the door you big slut!"

Damn. Cockblocked again. I jump up to close and lock my bedroom door. "Okay. Where were we?"

He's standing now, and comes up behind me, pressing the full length of his body against my own. He's so hard. He finds my nipples through my shirt and pinches them.

"You were about to show me your tits." He licks the shell of my ear.

He pulls my T-shirt over my head and quickly divests me of my bra as well. He's turned our bodies so we are facing the full length mirror on the back of my door. My skin is flushed, my mouth slightly parted, as he plays with my tits. A little rough because he knows I like it. His right hand slides down my belly, easily unbuttoning my jeans. I hold my breath as he drags my zipper down, opening the fly so that the top of my black lace underwear is visible. He takes a moment to just look at me, half naked, flushed with desire, wanton. I try to push my jeans down my hips but he stills me.

"Edward..."

"Don't move."

He pulls my jeans down for me, stripping me until I'm standing there in just a black lace thong. In the mirror, I watch as he stands back up again, never taking his eyes off my ass.

"I like this." He slides his middle finger along the fabric stretched across the cleft of my buttocks. With his left hand, he pushes the little scrap if fabric in front to the side, exposing my sex. He spreads me with his fingers, so we can both see what I already know. I'm so slick and ready for him. He could just unzip those jeans and slide right in.

Leaning in, he whispers in my ear, "I can't wait to lick your pussy."

One of the things I love about Edward is that he's not a big talker. He's barely speaks. Except when we're about to fuck, and the most delicious dirty words fall from his lips.

Brrring. Brrrring.

Fuuuck. Edward has dropped to his knees in front of me, and he's peeling the thong down my legs. The phone won't stop ringing. And any other time I would ignore it, but what if it's Carlisle? I put a finger to Edward's lips and quickly snatch up my phone and answer it.

"Hello?"

"Bella? Is this a bad time?"

"No...it's fine Esme." He looks up at me from the floor, a wicked glint in his eyes. No. He wouldn't dare. Not taking his eyes off of me, he takes one long wet lick along my slit, wrapping his lips around my clitoris and sucking on it. I take in a sudden, ragged breath.

"Are you sure? You sound flustered."

"No. I just...it's fine."

He's not even bothering with a preamble, there's no long drawn out foreplay. Edward has two fingers in my heat, fucking me and making my knees tremble as his clever tongue laps at my clit. And then every so often, his tongue enters me as deep inside as it will go. He likes the taste. He tells me, everytime. And then...oh my God, a third finger circling my back entrance. We've never...I've never...I catch his eyes and there's a question. Do you want to stop? I shake my head.

"Are you sure sweetie? Because I can call back later."

I'm so close. He's filling me, he's fucking me...everywhere. He curls his fingers against my vaginal walls and I come crashing down silently, collapsing into a boneless heap on the floor. He wraps his arms around me as I catch my breath, resting my head against his chest.

"Bella...? Are you there?"

"No this is perfect. What's up?"

"I was wondering if you heard anything from Edward? They were at the office all day, and he got a call from Eugene tonight, but I can't get anything out of Carlisle."

"No. I haven't gotten a chance. But I'll let you know if anything comes up."

Edward has left my room, presumably to wash his hands. And maybe take care of business. I've just begun to notice how, whenever I try to reciprocate he finds a way to sidetrack me, usually with another orgasm. He's quite skilled at distracting me, not that it takes much.

I get dressed again and try to make myself look somewhat respectable before I have to face the knowing looks from my roommate. I peek in quickly to Rose's room. She is still in the process of restoring it to its usual, spotless state. Emmett follows me to the kitchen to grab a beer.

"When did you get home?"

"Six-ish."

"Was Edward home?"

"No. He rolled in, maybe twenty minutes later?"

Through the window, I can see Edward sitting on the back steps, smoking a cigarette. He rests his other hand against his head. Just by the slump of his shoulders, his whole body, I can tell he's tired. I should have come home earlier.

"Think Rose will ever forgive him?"

"Doubtful. Well, maybe. If he cooks dinner again."

"I'll see what I can do."

I open the back door and step out onto the porch. He's murmuring something to himself, too low for me to hear. And then I realize he's not resting his head on his hand, he's talking on a cell phone. Cell phone? When did he get a cell phone? I waver with my hand on the door knob, not sure if I should go back inside. He ends the call, and slips the phone back in to his pocket.

"Carlisle," he says, answering my unasked question.

"Oh."

I sit down next to him on the steps. He transfers the cigarette to his other hand and wraps his free arm around me, curling me into his side.

"When did you get a phone?"

"Today. I bought a burner at Walgreens."

He pulls it out again and hands it to me. There's one number programmed into it. Carlisle. I add my number to his address book. I still don't get why Edward got it, who would he call? He has no friends as far as I'm aware of.

"Why?" It's not the most polite question, but I find with Edward it's best to be direct.

"For employers. If they need to call."

Of course. My mind skips ahead a few steps, suddenly at ease. He's making plans. He's going to stay. With all that has happened in the past few days we haven't discussed even the most basic things. Like if he was planning on staying in Chicago. First we need to focus on restoring him back to health. It's a little premature, I think, for him to be worrying about employment with the state that he is in. I can see even now he's restless. But it warms my heart, lessens the worry somewhat, to see him making plans for the future.

"What are you thinking you'd do?"

"Something with food maybe." For the first time, Edward looks unsure. He's smart and talented and remarkable in certain ways, but I'd imagine being a werewolf offers some obstacles in terms of keeping a steady job. I also wonder if he's even had a real job before.

"That's great Edward. I'll ask around if anyone has any leads...I still think you should take it easy for a while. Just until you're better."

He crushes the cigarette butt, and then stands up, offering me a hand. Back in the kitchen, he ponders the contents of the open fridge for a minute, before pulling out various items and placing them on the counter. He slips on my blue apron, and walks to the sink, rolling up his sleeves to wash his hands. Then I see it, a small red mark on his forearm. I wouldn't have noticed normally, but I've been watching him closely, looking for any signs of deterioration. The old track marks from the hospital have disappeared entirely, but this one is fresh.

"Did you give another blood sample today?"

"Hmm? No. Can you hand me an onion please? A red one."

"What's this from?" I ask, pointing at the mark.

He looks down. "Just Carlisle being overly cautious." He comes to stand behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. He buries his face in my neck, running his nose along my skin.

His tone is too flippant. And he's doing it. Again. Trying to distract me. With sudden clarity I realize he's been doing it all night. I spin around to face him, hands on his wrists to still him. He tries to kiss me but I turn my face to the side.

"Edward. What did you do today?"

"Nothing. Just the usual tests."

"You were gone for nine hours. I doubt your trip to Walgreens took that long. So what were you doing the rest of the time?"

"It was just a check up. Nothing to worry about." He releases himself from my grasp and turns his back to me, fishing around in the lower cabinets for a suitable pan. I watch him, busy himself around the kitchen, never once letting his eyes drift my way. After a few minutes of silent chopping, I move beside him, waiting. I take the handle of the knife and remove it from his grasp, placing it back on the wooden cutting board.

"Edward. Tell me."

He won't look at me. I grasp his chin in my hand, rough with new beard. He just shaved this morning and it's already grown so quickly. I lift his face up, eyes meeting mine.

"I'm sorry Bella."

"You don't need to apologize to me any more Edward. I've forgiven you. Just...tell me the truth. Whatever it is."

"I don't want to hurt you."

He closes his eyes again. I can see the hard set of his jaw, the worry lines forming on his forehead. What is going on? A cold numbness quickly washes over me, ugly dark dread for what he isn't saying. Hasn't said yet. It's the silence that scares me the most. I hear his heavy, slightly ragged breath. See his throat bobbing as he swallows.

"Baby? What happened?"

He finally drops his hand, and slowly turns his face away from me. At first, I think he's hiding, but then I realize what Edward's showing me. I trace the small new scar at his temple. Newly healed and pink. A little scratch would be invisible by now. But this one had to be deeper. You can definitely see it, the soft reddish brown hair, nearly camouflaging it but it's there. I had noticed it when he first came back from the hospital, his head still newly shaved, and yet he had a full beard. I think about the bag of razors I bought for him today. Of course they wouldn't give a patient in the psych ward a dangerous instrument like a razor.

So how on Earth did Edward have a buzz cut?

"What did they do to you?" I whisper. "Edward?"

My boyfriend. My sweet, beautiful boyfriend takes my hand in his, and he holds it to his chest.

"Don't lie to me."

He shakes his head.

"Carlisle found certain...chemical markers in my blood...So he had me come in today for a CAT scan of my brain. And an MRI...He's not sure of anything."

He was deliberately vague this morning about what he was doing. But he knew all along. The headaches, nausea. The gaps in his memory. The haircut he doesn't remember getting. I already know the truth but I ask anyway. I need to hear it, feel that final twist of the knife.

"Chemical markers for what Edward?"

Just one small word. And my world goes black.


	35. Chapter 35

Cancer.

He has a malignant brain tumor.

I sit in that small, chilly room, stale with recycled air and the smell of Lysol, staring blankly at the computer screen showing black and white images of Edward's brain. It was an overhead view, two perfect symmetrical lobes, like a Rorschach ink blot. Well, almost perfectly symmetrical. The tumor was a glowing white mass, about the size and shape of a small plum with swirling tendrils emanating from it.

_Glioblastoma_.

The doctor, the oncologist is an older Asian man, in his late-fifties I would guess. He explains everything in an even, steady tone. I think to myself he has a wonderful bedside manner. He takes time to clarify what some of the scarier terms mean, not that knowing makes it any easier. The tumor, in addition to causing headaches, nausea, vomiting, and memory loss, also can suppress the immune system, which explains why Edward doesn't seem to be healing as quickly as he normally would. The doctor, of course, has no idea that Edward is a werewolf.

Dr. Kim excuses himself and steps out for a minute to give us some privacy. Edward and I are silent for so long, unable to speak or even move, that even the motion sensitive lights flicker off and we are left sitting in the dark.

They need to act quickly. He has surgery scheduled for next Monday to try to remove it. Three days from today.

Don't cry Bella. Not now. Not here. Edward hasn't said a word since we left the doctor's office and I don't trust my own voice right now. I take his hand, dry and limp in my own and lead him down the hall. We ride the elevator five floors up to Carlisle's office.

Carlisle looks like he hasn't slept in days. His starched white coat is nearly the same color as his skin. I'm surprised when he hugs me. I think he needs it as much as I do right now. Edward isn't a hugger. Carlisle places a hand on his son's shoulder. His eyes are soft and glassy. Edward stares at his feet, unwilling, or unable, to meet Carlisle's gaze.

"Son."

Carlisle gives his shoulder a little squeeze. He lets his hand fall away, and clears his throat. Walking over to his desk he picks up a manila folder and begins to flip through the contents of the file.

"I've already spoken with Eugene. He thinks the...he thinks the prognosis is good. Your chances of..."

"Stop."

"Sorry?"

"I don't want to talk about this. Not with you."

"Edward, I..."

"Bella, I'll be downstairs." He disengages his hand from my grasp and stalks out the room. We both watch his retreating form. Carlisle drops the file back on his desk and gestures at an empty seat for me, and then slumps into his own desk chair, looking like all the false positivity that had been propping him up has been drained from him. For a long time we say nothing.

"I didn't expect you to be here."

I look up sharply. Outrage finally penetrating my numbness. How dare he?

"Where else would I be?" I ask, not bothering to disguise the iciness in my tone.

"I didn't mean it like that Bella. Edward didn't want to worry you. I'm surprised he told you, that's all."

"What kind of fucked up...Jesus Carlisle! He's got a fucking brain tumor. Enough with the secrets already." I'm livid. These men. These fucked up, stubborn men with their secrets. They would cling with them to the grave. Edward at least is trying to change...but it may be too late.

"I'm sorry Bella. It was just the two of us for so long..." He lets out a long breath. "My son...I'm glad he told you. I'm glad he has someone that cares about him."

Edward has a brain tumor. I just can't fathom how this is real, how this is happening. It can't. It just can't. Not Edward. We just found each other again. The thought of losing him...no it's impossible. Unbearable.

"How has he been acting?"

"What do you think?" I snap. Edward has never been a talker. But since last night he's sunk into complete silence. His hands linger longer, and I cling to him, afraid to let go, to let him out of my sight, my touch. I need to feel him, warmth radiating from his skin, the steady pulse of his heartbeat. Even now, It hurts to be separated from him.

He forgives my outburst. He knows. And if I'm honest, I can tell he's feeling the exact same emotions that I'm dealing with too. His son. His child. They may have a strained relationship but there is no doubt in my mind that Carlisle loves Edward dearly.

"Sometimes you see unusual patterns of behavior from patients with brain tumors. Changes in personality, temperament. Have you noticed anything different about Edward's behavior in the past week?"

Have I noticed anything different about Edward's behavior. Yes. Everything. He told me he loved me. No, he didn't say it out loud. But I know it. He's not running away from me. That's the biggest thing. I thought we had moved on, we were progressing in our relationship. We got through the worst of it and we were making plans. The promise of awkward dinner parties with his parents. He was going to get a job. I gave him my keys.  
>He was staying. Because he loved me. Was it not real? A cruel joke played on us by the universe.<p>

When I finally do speak, it sounds too loud. "Carlisle...Is he going to die?"

"Dr. Cope is a very gifted surgeon."

"Is he going to die?"

Carlisle doesn't need to answer me. The look on his face says all. Worry, fear, despair. It's all written there in the lines of his face, the red-rimmed eyes.

"I don't know."

His words hang heavy in the air. Edward showed me the scar, the place where Banner, or someone working in tandem with Banner had performed surgery on him. Banner is a neurologist, not a neurosurgeon, which is all the more alarming. Somehow he found a way to introduce cancer cells into Edward's brain. The question is, why would he do this? What logical motive could Banner have to give Edward cancer? If he wanted to kill him, surely there are easier ways to do so. And why would he lure him all the way back to Chicago just to kill him? It doesn't make sense.

Edward is leaning against the building, blatantly ignoring all the non-smoking signs. I can't find it in my heart to chastise him. I take the cigarette from his hand and let it drop to the ground, grinding it out with the toe of my boot. I hold his head, pulling him to me until our foreheads are touching. I close my eyes.

"Let's go home."

We spend the train ride with our fingers entwined, my head on his shoulder, his arm around me. We could be any other couple in love. Nobody pays us any mind. Don't they realize that our world is quietly falling to pieces. Cell by cell. It falls. The early spring light is cold, the naked trees and brown brick and concrete of the city pass us by. Will he still be here when they bloom again?

Rosalie and Emmett have been spending a lot of time at his place lately, to give us some privacy. But it's too quiet. I lock the door behind me and he follows me to the bedroom. I shed my parka, because even though it is early April, this is Chicago and it feels like spring will never come. I peel off my sweater and my jeans and boots. The socks go next. And then I unhook my bra, letting it fall to the ground. I step out of my panties.

Edward never takes his eyes off of me. Always watching. Breathing heavy, his eyes dark with lust, and sadness...and fear. I come to him, and unzip his jacket. Layer by layer I unpeel him, until he is bare before me. I pull him down to sit on my bed. I bend down to kiss him, cradling his face in my hands. This beautiful boy. This beautiful man. He kills me. I kiss the jawline that haunts my dreams. Rough, just enough friction to drive me crazy. I inhale the scent of his skin, that pure animal scent that that stirs primordial feelings in me that I cannot begin to process. I could never shake him, even if I wanted to. Those lips. That mouth so sweet. His tongue, his taste.

This beautiful man that knew me better than I knew myself. He saw through all the bullshit, the lies I hid behind and saw me. And loved me anyway. He fought for me. He might die for me.

I sink to my knees and try to take him in my mouth, but he gently cups my chin in his big hands. He tries to pull me back up but up but I refuse.

"Stop. No more guilt Edward." I look into those green eyes. "Let me love you."

He holds my gaze, and then swallows. He brings my hand to his lips and presses a kiss there. He nods.

I take him, all of him inside me, and I give him everything I have to give. He grows harder still in my mouth, and strokes my hair, until his breath is ragged and his hands clutch my head. He pulls onto his lap, lips searching desperately for my own, hands roaming my flushed body, fingers sliding deep inside me, finding me wet and ready for him. I break away for a moment to retrieve a gold foil wrapped packet from my nightstand. I tear it open and slide the condom over his erection.

"Make love to me Edward."

He grabs my waist and kisses me deeply. I climb on to his lap, finding his cock and positioning it at my entrance. I watch as his eyes flutter lightly, his mouth drops open as I sink on to him. We are still, just looking at each other, connected. I begin to rise and fall, finally feeling complete with Edward inside me. Watching him grow increasingly desperate, panting, sweat on his brow. Suddenly, he flips me onto the bed, and he is over me, the full weight of his body on me, and he is filling me, fucking me, and I am giving back as hard as he gives. Every stroke, every thrust, the rough hands on my tits, the fingers in my mouth, my teeth on his skin, biting, tasting. I want all of him, I want him everywhere. He pulls out before coming, collapsing on me. I stroke his damp hair, enjoying the feel of him resting on my breast. This moment right here. I will hold this in my heart forever.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't wait any longer."

"It's okay," I say, but he is already sliding down my body and before I know it's happening, his tongue is inside me. Flickering, tasting how wet he has made me, fucking me with those fingers and that mouth, those lips. I cry out, shuddering trembling, and he never stops. I have to push him away when it becomes too much.

Afterward, he holds me in his arms. The curve of my spine fits against his as if I were made to. I can feel him on the backs of my knees. This beautiful, rational geometry of our bodies. We are perfect together.


	36. Chapter 36

The doctor sent him home with a packet outlining what to expect the day of and how to prepare for surgery. I don't think Edward looked at it once. They also gave him a prescription for steroids, to reduce the swelling in his brain. How do you prepare for something like this? I poured over the printed pages, multiple times, and it was no help. The language was careful, measured, positive but not overly optimistic. Realistic in setting expectations. I got no answers to the one question that had been playing in a loop endlessly in my mind, over and over. How is this happening?

Edward. My Edward. One week. I had him back for exactly one week.

We've barely left my room, my bed all weekend. He lays with his eyes closed on my lap, warm afternoon light streaming through my windows, filling my room with orange and gold. I watch him inhale, exhale. I run my fingers through his short copper hair. It's so soft. I trace the thin pink scar, a neat line maybe one inch long, slightly raised on his scalp. If only I could will it away. Pull this poison from his flesh and make him whole again. I would take it, I would absorb it into my own body if it meant that Edward would be spared this shit. Shit piled on top of shit. It's not fucking fair. The injustice makes my eyes bleed, makes me want to rip my hair out of from the root. How much more can one person endure? Keep enduring?

He's watching me through dark lashes. The green clear and brilliant in this light. He makes my breath catch, my heart stop, this man. I can't bear to look at him but I can't look away. I feel it like a knife in my chest, this ache, this joy, this hurt. How can he be so beautiful? It's impossible. I am too small, to weak, to hold all the emotions this man stirs in me. I am an inadequate vessel, flimsy and reckless and lost, and I am drowning in him. He takes my hand away from his scar and pulls it to his heart. Always slow and steady. I lean down and press a kiss to his full, pink lips.

* * *

><p>Rose and Em sit on either side of me like a protective barrier. Carlisle and Esme have each other. She leaves the room and comes back twenty minutes later bearing a carrier of styrofoam cups of weak coffee. Her eyes are red and swollen, her pale skin blotchy, but she manages a weak smile that doesn't reach her eyes. And that's it for the Edward Cullen entourage.<p>

Charlie's death took me by surprise. He was only fifty-two. I had never spent any time in hospitals; by the time I flew back he was already gone. My father was always an enigma to me. No, that isn't completely true. The one thing we shared was that we were always better off alone than with other people. So we lived in that shabby little yellow house, never saying much, not needing to.

We scattered his ashes, his best friend and me on the lake where he spent most weekends. I never saw them speak about more than baseball or whose turn it was to pick up a twelve pack, but I could tell Billy was a bit misty-eyed. He said Charlie would have liked it. I didn't know. I didn't know anything about Charlie beyond the superficial ways that all dads are alike. What kind of terrible daughter am I that I have no idea how my father wanted to spend the rest of his days. I felt like a sociopath for not feeling more.

I did eventually. A week later, on the brown line, during rush hour. My fellow commuters looked away, politely pretending not to notice the tears falling behind my dark glasses. It suddenly hit me that I was an orphan. Can you be an orphan at twenty-seven? There was no one left. That night, sleeping in that bed with my boyfriend, his heavy arm curled round my waist, I felt more alone than ever. The next day I broke up with him. It was easier then I thought it would be. I didn't need him. I never had him really. He was a bad habit, a crutch, an excuse to keep drifting. I was ready to burn my old life to the ground and start over. I packed my bags, put my stuff into storage and got myself a hotel room. The next day I called Esme.

In a beige room, with the smell of stale coffee permanently embedded in the air, I wait. I've got an old issue of Time magazine open in my lap, trying to read the same three sentences about stem cell research for the past half hour and absorbing nothing. The words pass through my mind like a sieve.

* * *

><p>"I'm sorry Miss..."<p>

"Swan. Bella Swan."

"Miss Swan, hospital policy allows only immediate family to stay the night in the patient's room."

"I understand that, but I need to stay with him. I need to be here when he wakes up. Can't we just say I'm...his sister? I promise I'll keep quiet."

The woman looks exhausted. Her dirty blonde hair is pulled back in a low messy bun and she looks like she's on hour fifteen of a sixteen hour shift. She probably has had a dozen versions of this conversation today alone, by people just as desperate and on the verge of a meltdown as I am. I know it's not her fault but I could really throttle her right now. I'm trying really hard to keep the rising panic and rage from my voice. I know it's fucking hospital policy. I read it in the fucking packet. But he needs me. I need to be there when he wakes up.

"Please."

"Bella, what's going on?" Carlisle walks up, looking beyond the curtained entryway into Edward's room. He's asleep on the bed, a large white bandage attached to the side of his head.

"They're only letting immediate family stay the night."

Carlisle turns to the nurse, giving her a smile that communicates, "I understand you're just trying to do your job."

"Dr. Carlisle Cullen. I'm Edward's father. It's a pleasure to meet you..."

"Lauren."

They don't shake hands.

"Lauren. Thank you for taking such good care of Edward. Bella's not immediate family yet, but she will be soon. She just got engaged to my son. Show her your ring dear."  
>We all three look down at my bare ring finger.<p>

"It's at the jewelers. Getting resized," I say, too surprised to sound convincing.

Lauren's not buying it. She looks from my purposely blank expression to Carlisle's smiling handsome face and shakes her head.

"Visiting hours end at 9. Only one family member is allowed to stay overnight."

She waves her hand toward the open door and walks away.

The room is warm with the smell of plastic, harsh fluorescent lights lending a yellow pallor over everything. The screens beside his bed beep and hum. It's almost soothing, like a orchestra of crickets at night. He's got one narrow window, a sliver of moon just barely visible. Less than three weeks until the next one.

There isn't even a real door, just a thin curtain so that hospital personnel can come in and out easily to check on him. Anybody could walk in anytime. Edward will hate it here. I pull a chair up to his bed, and clasp his dry, limp hand in my own. They shaved the side of his head. The surgeon cut him, right where the pink scar is now. The doctors have questioned Edward again and again about it. How did he get it? Where did he get it? He doesn't remember anything. After a while I forget Carlisle is still in the room, until he adjusts the blanket on Edward with surprising tenderness.

"Thanks." I say.

"No problem. I hope you don't mind..."

"No."

Engaged. I can't even think about that. For now, I just want more time with him. As much time as possible.

We sit in silence, our thoughts punctuated only by the reassuring beat of his heart monitor.

"Where is Esme?"

"Rosalie and Emmett took her home. Are you going to be okay here? You don't have to spend the night. I can stay with him."

"I want to."

He nods. His eyes are different from Edward's. Blue, not green, but he has a way of looking that reminds me of his son. Carlisle's earlier question had etched itself into my heart, amplifying every fear, every doubt I'd had since the beginning. I know he didn't mean to be cruel when he asked. But Edward spent twenty years in silence and then...there was me. It was a fact. Edward's behavior couldn't be more out of character. I can't know what the truth is. If the change in him was a conscious decision to break from the past, to stop living the same mistakes again and again, or if it wasn't Edward at all. Someone that looked and felt and acted the way I wanted my Edward to act, but was nothing more than a shadow, a clump of malignant cells on a computer monitor.

"How long before he wakes up?"

"He's heavily sedated. Probably not until tomorrow morning."

"And then what?"

"We wait. A few more days, and then we'll do more tests."

And after that, maybe radiation. I know all this. I've read an endless stream of articles on brain tumors and their treatment for the past three days. But that's for a regular patient. Edward is different. It's what I'm counting on, it's the last shred of hope that I cling to.

"What do you think?"

"I think...Dr. Cope is a gifted surgeon, one of the best in the Midwest. The operation went smoothly today. We just need to give Edward's body time to heal itself."

"But it wasn't before. He just kept getting sicker and sicker."

"Glioblastomas have immunosuppressive qualities. That, coupled with the fact that he was trying to regenerate delicate brain tissue...it takes a lot of energy to fight back. It's like coming back from a gunshot wound." His hand rests on Edward's shoulder, right where I shot him so many months ago. "But instead of muscle and bone, he's growing neurons."

I don't care if it's a lie. I need Carlisle to tell me it will be okay. That he will come out of this. That he will get better somehow. I'm silently pleading to him. I see his eyes flicker quickly to the window, and then back at me. I'm suddenly struck with the realization that Carlisle has lived this before. He's lived this for twenty years now, every month, every moon. Wishing in vain that his son would be spared the agony of transformation and powerless to stop it. He can't lie because he knows there's no point.

"Bella, did you know we are born with all the neurons we will ever have? One hundred billion neurons. We can't grow new ones. There have been studies done on neurogenesis, but we're years away from being able to grow new brain cells. But Edward...his body, his existence...it defies all logic. The laws of nature as we know them, they don't apply here."

I swallow. In his own careful, cautious way, Carlisle has given me hope. Even after decades of disappointment, he still manages to find faith, because it's Edward. Edward is different. He has to be.

Our grumpy nurse walks by, catching my eye and raises her watch to me. Visiting hours are over. Carlisle stands, shrugging on his trench coat.

"Are you sure you want to stay Bella?"

"I'm sure."

I try to stay awake as long as I can, but days of fitful sleep and worry have drained the life out of me and I drift. I am stirred awake by curtains drawn, quiet footsteps, checking in on him every few hours, but the steps fade away and I am immersed back into a cold fog, the smell of blood and fire and ash, yellow eyes, his hair a silvery grey in the moonlight.

When I wake for the last time, the room is blue with early morning light. It's that precise moment just before the sunrise. For a moment I forget where I am, but the steady beat from his heart monitor brings me back to Earth. My body aches from sleeping at such an odd angle, sitting by the bed, my cheek pressed against Edward's hand. I rub my sore neck, slowly unfurling myself, letting my muscles stretch as far as they will go.

There is a stutter, a frantic quickening in the beat and I turn to the monitor in alarm. I need to, should I call someone? A nurse, a doctor, where is that call button? I shoot up, ready to run from the room when a hand clamps around my wrist.

Green eyes stare back at me. I sink back down, gathering both of his hands in my own and I kiss his fingers. His heart is still going but I sit with him. I don't let go until it slows.

"You're still here."

"I'm still here."


	37. Chapter 37

These nurses...they sure do like to hover. I get it. Just look at him. Even with a little bald patch on the side of his head, underweight, unshaven, and clad in a cotton poly blend hospital gown, he's easy on the eyes. There's no denying that bone structure. Edward Cullen is prettier than any man has a right to be. I'm not jealous, not really, but when Nurse Sue with the pink scrubs and the intense eye contact comes in to give Edward his sponge bath I swoop in quicker than you can say "porno cliché". I swear Sue glances with disdain at my obviously bare ring finger before handing over the washbasin to me.

"Don't laugh." He laughs anyway. I pretend to sniff the air around him and make a moue of distaste.

"You just want to get me naked."

"Maybe." Two days later, they have finally moved him out of the ICU, in to a private room with a real door and not just a flimsy curtain that almost any stranger off the street could walk through. He raises up slowly from the hospital bed and swings his legs over the side of it. The doctors had him up and walking around as soon as he was able, to assess whether or not there was any damage caused by the surgery. So far it seems he moves with the same easy grace that he always had. I'm still adjusting to seeing him not attached to all those wires. The sound of those monitors was oddly reassuring. It was proof that he was alive, stable, safe, that they were doing something. Watching him let free like this, untethered, this wait and see business, I know I should be grateful...but it's almost unbearable.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm taking a bath."

I look over at the yellow bowl and the stack of towels Nurse Sue has left. He ignores it and instead walks to the bathroom.

"Edward, your head..."

"Is fine." He leans down to turn on the water.

"But...your bandage."

"I won't get it wet."

"And what if you have a seizure? You could hit your head..." No seizures either. We were warned that might be a problem. But he hadn't had any before the surgery and hasn't had any yet. It's funny, they said we were lucky. Lucky. I looked at Edward when we heard this and by the slight quirk on his lips I knew he was thinking the same thing. Getting tangled up with a mad scientist who drugged him and conducted illegal underground experiments on his body, the fact that he was a werewolf in the first place. I'd say he was cursed. And yet...somehow it's true. They did an MRI yesterday and it looks like they were successful in removing all of the tumor and he emerged from surgery with all his motor skills intact, with just a little cut and some stitches on the side of his head. He can still read and write and remember that he hates Carlisle and loves Esme.

"Then you'll have to stay and watch." He turns toward me, untying his gown and pulling it off. I'm incapable of anything he's suggesting right now, but like a magnet, my eyes immediately zero in on my favorite part of his anatomy. Nurse Sue doesn't know what she's missing. With a sigh, I drag the chair from his room into the doorway of the tiny bathroom to watch the show. Like I said, lucky.

"You could join me."

"No."

"Should I call Sue?"

"You do that." How can he be so glib? I'm happy that he seems to be doing well enough to flirt but a little annoyed with him for taking his rehab not so seriously. The doctors never said anything about sexual activity, but he's supposed to be taking it easy and I don't want to risk his health, not for a handjob. Edward responds with a low chuckle, leaning back in the narrow tub and closing his eyes.

I've spent the last few days sitting vigil over him as he slept. He's more tired than usual, his body exhausted with the formidable task of making itself whole again. I haven't been able to sleep more than an hour at a time, waking in a cold sweat to scramble for his pulse, listen for the intake and release of oxygen from his lungs. Even now, with his eyes closed, I watch. The space between here and gone is as faint as a wisp of smoke. I fear if I let him out of my sight, he will slip from my grasp forever. I try to stifle the small catch in my breath, but his green eyes are open, watching me. I drop my eyes to the floor.

"Come here."

I can't lift my gaze. But I swallow, and stare at the linoleum tiles. I rise from my uncomfortable chair and walk the few steps to the tub and perch on the edge. He takes my hand and weaves his long, elegant fingers through my own. He dwarfs me. I never feel so small, so delicate as when he is holding me. I am as fragile and papery as a white moth and he could crumple me up like I was nothing if he wanted to. I watch the edges of my vision blur, the lines of the dim, fluorescent lit bathroom rendered as a impressionistic watercolor. He erases my tears with the rough pads of his thumbs but there are new ones to replace them.

"Baby...baby don't cry..."

He's so soft with me, so gentle, and it is completely devastating. This man. Oh God, this man. He kills me. Anything...everything I have to give, it's his. I would cut my own heart out of my chest if he asked me to. And I know he would do the same for me. He rises from the bath, water everywhere, on the floor, soaking me to the skin. The sound of sobbing, ragged, shuddering breaths, I can't keep it in anymore, this flood. I'm so weak. A failure. I can't even keep from crying like the same stupid, little girl I always was, not even for him. Because of him. Edward. My Edward. I could lose him still. And then his wet arms around me, so strong. How is he so strong? He never lets go, not even when the water gets cold.

* * *

><p>He straightens suddenly. I can see the tiny hairs on Edward's neck, pale blonde in the light, standing on end. He knows something's up. There is a loud banging on our door, and Before I can answer it it swings wide open.<p>

"Alright Cancer Boy, are you ready to get your mind blown?"

I cringe slightly at the moniker. Rosalie has burst into the room carrying several plastic bags, followed by Emmett, who is equally burdened, the most wonderful aromas emanating from them. Edward looks about ready to spring from his hospital bed, he leans so far forward, ready to snatch at the bags.

"We weren't sure what you liked, so we got a little of everything dude," Emmett announces. He's grinning, we're all grinning, Edward most of all. The biggest smile on his face, fingers itching to get at the contents.

Rose starts to pull a container out of the bag and pauses, "Unless you'd rather stick with the hospital food?"

"Fuck no. Cancer boy likes everything." Edward says emphatically. The nausea is gone and he's able to eat again, a small triumph, but short lived as the hospital fare can barely be classified as food.

"Wait..." Emmett looks sheepish. "Can we do the thing, you know, with the blind fold?" Edward rolls his eyes but nonetheless obliges by closing them. "Okay Eddie, what's in the bags?" He takes a deep inhale and opens his mouth to speak. This is absurd. He knew they were coming, the moment they stepped off the elevator.

"Oh fuck it, I just want to eat."

It's like Christmas morning, as the plastic and paper containers emerge. Every ethnic group in our neighborhood is represented here it seems. There are brilliantly spiced curries from our favorite Indian restaurant, where you can always count on a cricket game playing on the tv and the naan being fresh out of the tandoor, and pastries from the little Sicilian bakery where a pair of absurdly handsome brothers craft the most exquisite, delicate, pear and orange blossom scented delicacies, fragrant Vietnamese noodle soup, ziplock baggies, foggy with steam from hot queso tamales with red and green salsa, it's never ending.

"You darling girl." I just want to cry again. If I hadn't spent all my tears already, there would be major waterworks. He's so happy, his whole face lit up like a Christmas tree. He and Emmett heaping their paper plates full of food. I squeeze her side and she gives me a grimace smile.

She shrugs. "Emmett needs feeding every two hours anyway. Thought we'd swing by the hospital. How's your boy? He looks better, except for that fucked up haircut," she laughs. "What's next?"

"I think we might be able to go home soon. They say we could potentially walk out of here tomorrow."

"Wow."

"Yeah." I can't help the smile. Edward looks up at me, just as he's about to take in another bite of food and grins. I love watching him eat. He does this thing sometimes when he tastes his food and he closes his eyes, just for a moment. He doesn't even realize he's doing it.

"How are you holding up?"

"Better. I'm kind of a mess. I don't know. It doesn't matter."

"Hey...if there's anything I can do..."

"Thanks Rose. I'll never be able to...you've been such a good friend, with Edward, and Banner, and..." I can't finish, just gesturing at the joyous tableau before me. It's just so...it's too much. I can't guarantee that the next sound out of my mouth won't be a sob.

"Hey, hey...B...It's okay. If you need to cry, cry. Here." She plucks a brand new box of tissues from her giant purse and brandishes them in front of me, as if to fend off any onslaught of emotion.

"You came prepared." Of course she did. This is typical Rose. What did I ever do to deserve such a good friend? A few tears have escaped but I'm laughing now. I open the box and take out one and dab lightly at my eyes.

"You should eat something."

"Maybe in a little bit."

"I've been thinking...about all this." She waves in Edwards direction. "Like, what is the point?" Edward? "No B, not that. I mean, what is the point of Banner going to all the trouble of tracking down Edward, well, Jasper really. I guess Edward was just convenient? Why did Banner go to the trouble of procuring himself a werewolf to do experiments on, if only to kill him with cancer? It doesn't make sense."

"I can't figure it out either. If he wanted to kill him, he could have done so a long time ago. There are easier ways." A gun. Poison. Banner could have slipped some deadly cocktail into Edward's meds if he'd wanted to. He could have killed him at the cabin. Hell, I nearly did.

"I know right? I don't think he wanted to kill Edward." I've come to the same conclusion. I nod. "So I've been thinking...Banner figured out a way to suppress Edward's immune system, which as far as I can tell seems to be the major side affect associated with lycanthropy, other than the turning into a wolf business. If he didn't have that superhuman ability to heal, he'd probably die after transforming. There's no way a person survives having all the bones in their body broken, muscles and organs ripped to shit, month after month." Rose had witnessed just the beginnings of Edward's transformation that night we broke him out. But it was enough.

"What if...I know this is crazy. What if Banner wasn't lying? What if he figured out a way to cure Edward?"

I've been thinking these thoughts too, but unable to vocalize them, or even allow myself to consider the remotest possibility, because...no. It's too good to be true. Banner the good guy? Edward, cured. A normal life, no more fear, no more hiding. It's too good to be true. No. She watches my for for my reaction.

"But you saw him change, before you put him in the van."

"Girl, I don't know what I saw. He was still human when I dragged him in there."

"But you said..." "His eyes were milky and he was gross and clammy and his hands looked a little fucked up, But he was still a dude. Nobody saw him turn into a wolf."

"Rose. He could still..." I can't finish the sentence. Another week, another CAT scan scheduled. I want to start breathing again but I can't. Not until I know he's safe.

"I know. I don't want to get your hopes up. But we have to consider all the possibilities. I just wish I could find the fucker." I look over at Edward and he's laughing at something on Emmett's phone. Rose rolls her eyes. She digs into a bag a pulls out a container of samosas, offering me one. I shake my head, but she presses the deep fried pastry into my hand. "When's the last time you ate real food? You look like hell B."

"Thanks." I take a bite of my samosa and force myself to chew and swallow. I usually find these irresistible but today they taste like cardboard to me. We sit in silence, eating, watching our boyfriends laugh in unison over another video. Edward is so easy with him, so much lighter.

"Well, whatever his motive, Banner chose a good bullet."

"What?"

"There aren't a whole lot of things that would cause serious damage to Edward, no? Okay, so bullets obviously. Duh. You shot him. But how long did it take him to bounce back from that?"

"Two days."

"Right. So..." She laughs. "I can't believe you shot him! Anyway, gunshot wounds, knife wounds, poison, any illness, cancer cells pretty much anywhere else in the body, he would have healed in a few days. Right?"

"Right."

"But the genius with introducing them to his brain, those types of cancer cells specifically, is that they impair his main superpower. He can't heal himself, he actually gets sick. Bingo. Banner knew exactly what he was doing. He found Edward's Kryptonite." Where is she going with this? The rest of my samosa sits forgotten on my plate.

"So Edward shows up in Chicago about...five weeks ago? I was looking over the case file and it looks like Banner started prescribing meds to Edward about a week into his treatment. So the therapy was obviously just a front, covering his tracks for the hospital, building a case against Edward, to get him locked up later, who knows. Or maybe Banner's just a perv and wanted to hear about your boyfriend slutting it up?"

She raises one perfectly arched eyebrow at me. I press my lips tightly together. We haven't discussed it, his past. He knows I know. But for some reason, in between engaging in a few felonies and goddamned brain cancer, I haven't found the most opportune time to bring up his sordid sexual history.

"Not now Rose."

"Okay, okay. Not my business. But if it was my business–"

"It's not."

"Just saying–"

"Don't."

"Okay, as I was saying. I think this whole thing was planned. There was a method to it. Luring him to Chicago, getting him admitted into the psych ward. Edward's complaints seemed to follow a pattern, as if he was receiving regular doses. Hell, Banner could have been planning this with that Jasper guy, if he hadn't inconveniently offed himself."

"Rose!" Edward has probably heard this entire conversation but he doesn't react.

"Sorry. That was insensitive. You get what I'm saying though, right? Who knows how far back, or how deep this goes? Or who else is involved?"

The truth is I haven't thought about Banner in days. While my roommate was constructing conspiracy theories, plausible ones, but theories nonetheless, I've been living and breathing just Edward. But if he comes out of this alive, our problems don't just miraculously disappear. There's still this unknown entity, lurking just beyond the corners of our consciousness. The truth is...the truth is we know nothing.

I'm jolted out of my reverie by another knock at the door. Nurse Sue is back, here to change out the dressing on the wound, with another young nurse in tow. Emmett and Rosalie help clean up our feast and make their goodbyes, Emmett plopping a fat wet kiss on my cheek, and Edward's as well before leaving. The room feels suddenly smaller.

"How are this afternoon Edward?"

"Good."

"Any pain? Headaches?"

"No."

"I'm just going to check on your dressing, alright?" He nods. I turn away to give the woman some room to work. I hear the clink of scissors, the quiet snip snip of gauze being cut. After some time, I realize Sue hasn't moved.

"Would you page for me Lo?"

"What's wrong?" I ask, suddenly alert.

"Nothing to worry yourself about."

But I do worry. It's been my constant state for the last 72 hours. Lo scuttles off quickly without another word. Less than ten minutes pass before Edward's doctor comes into the room. Lo must have told him something was up because there's a studied casualness to his demeanor.

"Dr. Cope, I thought you might want to see this."

She cuts away the rest of the gauze. I'm standing on the other side of her, seeing what so alarmed her earlier. Being a nurse in the brain tumor treatment center, she's probably done this hundreds of times. She knows exactly what this kind of wound should look like. And it's definitely not this. Pink, perfectly smooth skin with just a neat scar line, maybe an inch and a half long.

I've been too distracted of late to notice. To look at him, really look at him. I take in the clear green eyes, the face, thin but no longer gaunt, the healthy flush to his skin. He's filled out in recent days, even despite the shitty hospital food. Ten, fifteen pounds, I'd guess. The bewildered medical professionals examine him closely, looking back at each other, the silent questions forming in their heads. How is this possible? Edward captures my hand and he squeezes. How did I not see this before? There's a glimmer in his eyes. He looks like he's holding in a grin. He knew of course. No one could be more aware of their body. Nurse Sue removes the rest of the bandage. There's no need to redress the wound...because there is no wound.

The doctor is saying something but it comes out as underwater gibberish to my ears. All I'm seeing, hearing, is Edward. I'm crying again but it's okay this time, and it's Edward stroking my hand and telling me baby it's going to be all right. It's going to be all right. This time I believe him.


	38. Chapter 38

_Previously: They discovered the root of Edward's physical deterioration was a malignant brain tumor, received while he was under the care of Dr. Banner. _Banner was still missing. _Edward underwent surgery to remove it. The surgery was successful. _

"Where is he? He's usually not this late," Emmett says, drifting around the kitchen. He listlessly opens and closes the cabinets at random, as if Edward was somehow hidden in their depths.

I know. I'm not panicking quite yet, trying on this new identity—of the secure, independent twenty-something who just happens to be in a relationship. Totally normal. Other people's boyfriends go out for runs every morning. They usually come back after four hours though. Maybe longer, he didn't wake me when he left. Should I be worried? Emmett's definitely concerned, but that has more to do with whether or not he will have to settle for eating cold cereal for breakfast. He's totally spoiled now, and Edward doesn't seem to mind. Someone's got to eat all this absurdly delicious food he's been cooking.

Rosalie stumbles into the kitchen, still bleary eyed. "What's for breakfast?"

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing," Emmett says.

"Seriously Em, what did you do for food before Edward came?" I snap, the words sounding harsher than I intend. I immediately regret how that came out, but Em, to his credit doesn't notice or chooses to ignore my bitchiness.

He shudders. "I don't remember. I've blocked it from my memory."

I can't help it. I am worried sick. My resolution lasted but a few short hours. Old habits, they say. But who goes out running for four hours and doesn't leave a note? Or call. I tried his cell. Twice. No answer. If I wasn't so anxious I'd be absolutely furious at Edward.

There's a new line of potted plants on the windowsill; thyme, parsley, oregano. I don't know why I was so surprised when he asked if it was alright. He's still so tentative about taking up any space. It kind of kills me. Rosalie has been surprisingly cool about everything, considering the circumstances. She's happily ceded the kitchen and all meal preparation to him, having no interest in the space in the first place. Even if she wasn't such a control freak, the things I've asked of her, she wouldn't be out of line if she tried to get me evicted, arrested even. Not to mention the fact that she didn't sign up for an additional live-in roommate when I moved in. Especially one that comes with so much baggage. Figurative baggage, that is. I'm pretty sure everything he owns fits into one sad duffle bag.

What she would never admit, I think, is that Rosalie secretly likes him. He's easy to fall in love with, but I might be biased. Emmett absolutely adores Edward, so that helps. And he's been great around the house, not just in the kitchen, but keeping himself busy fixing all the things our absentee landlord has neglected to take care of. He's quiet, hard-working, and brutally honest-all traits that Rosalie approves of.

"Hey B, according to my weather app, you know the full moon is like, in two days right?"

"Yeah."

"So...what is Edward going to do? I don't think Mike will let us borrow his van again. He needs it to take Jess out. And the garage is not exactly fail safe. Oh did you hear? They just got engaged."

"What? I thought they broke up?"

"Yeah, I know. Those two idiots. She's crazy about him, for some reason. Whatever. I'm happy for them, and he is way less obnoxious when he's with her. I just hope she doesn't ask me to be her bridesmaid. Anyway, full moon, what's Edward's plan?"

"I don't know yet. I'll have to ask him."

"Seriously, girl? What are you waiting for?"

"I don't know."

Part of me holds out just the tiniest sliver of hope that Banner was the good guy all along, that we've misinterpreted his actions and that he was really wasn't lying when he claimed to be "curing" Edward. That there won't be any transformation at all. I've quizzed Rosalie, many many times, exactly what she saw that night. She said his eyes turned milky, his hands...maybe there was something...But it was dark, and she was frantic and she only had a good look at him a few seconds at most, before dragging his body into the back of the van. She can't be 100% sure of anything.

"Even if Banner fixed him, we have to be safe. Just in case."

Sometimes I think Rose might be a mind reader. She's surprisingly good at reading people's faces. Or maybe she's just good at reading mine.

Speak of the devil. The back door opens and there stands a shirtless Edward, dripping wet, clad only in running shorts. Unreal. My jaw hangs open. I probably look like an idiot but I don't care. I'm frozen somewhere between relief and shock and anger and if I'm honest, a little turned on. Rosalie unabashedly gives him a once over, and then raises her eyebrows at me. Edward seems unnerved by all the attention, running a hand through his wet hair. He bends down to unlace his sneakers, placing them by the door before leaning over to kiss the top of my head.

"What happened dude?" Emmett asks.

"Went for a swim."

"You do know it's April in Chicago, right? And it's like, 40 degrees outside," Rosalie points out.

He shrugs. "I'm going to take a shower," he says, tugging lightly on my ear before leaving the kitchen.

"Damn girl."

I know. I know. He's been back home a few weeks now, and even Emmett, who can be exceptionally unobservant when it comes to this stuff has remarked upon Edward's changed appearance. Slim but no longer gaunt, far from it actually; he's filled out, lean muscles rippling with strength. He's making up for lost time by cooking the most delicious, decadent feasts. Even Rosalie, who is a vegetarian, caved when confronted with his short ribs, which he left on the stove for hours, to braise in veal stock and wine, filling the house with the most mouth-watering aroma. The hair, the auburn hair that I loved is back, long enough that I can run my fingers through it. You can't tell there was ever a little bald patch. He is the picture of health and virility. We were scheduled to go back for another barrage of tests, and Edward tried to skip out on them. I don't blame him, it was obvious he'd be given a clean bill of health. You didn't need an MRI or bloodwork to tell you that.

He's been going a little stir crazy. There are only so many hours in the day that you can spend having sex, and after a while, even I had to admit my body needed a break. So he's been burning off the excess energy by running, and apparently, swimming in the frigid lake. He runs hot, he tells me. It feels like a bit of a honeymoon still, not quite real life. He's here, he's safe, and he's okay now. That's all that matters. That and the fact that the full moon in two days. That's another thing we haven't discussed yet. Tomorrow I'll ask him.

He emerges from the shower a short while later. His clothes fit him so much better now. He strolls into the kitchen like nothing out of the usual just occurred. Tugging on my braid before turning away to pour himself a mug of coffee. As he didn't just disappear without warning for four hours. He pulls out a cast iron skillet and the bowl of eggs from the fridge.

"Are you hungry Bella?"

"No."

"How many eggs do you want Emmett? Rosalie?"

Emmett opens his mouth to answer, but then sees my face and freezes. "Actually...me and Rosie were going out for breakfast. We'll just...come on babe." Before she can protest, he pulls her out of the room.

"Are you sure you don't want anything Bella?"

"I'm sure." I'm seething. Too pissed off to even think about food.

As the eggs pop and sizzle in the hot oil, he smears a thick layer of butter on his toast. He slides the eggs onto a plate, with a dusting of sea salt and a few grinds of black pepper on them before sitting down next to me. He digs in with gusto, the four hour long run and swim in Lake Michigan clearly working up a huge appetite. He makes it through about three eggs before he notices that I've been silent and I haven't touched my computer.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'm fine." I pretend to turn back to my laptop.

He peers at me for a moment, before returning to his plate. There's nothing but the sound of my keyboard, and the clink of silverware. How can he just sit there eating breakfast when I feel as if I could strangle him? I can barely stand it, and yet I'm paralyzed. I should say something, I know I should but I can't seem to get the words out. He puts down his fork. Closes my untouched laptop.

"Tell me. I know something's wrong Bella, but I'm not a mind reader."

My gut reaction is to deny it. Avoid confrontation at all costs. I'm mad at him and mad at myself for not being able to speak directly. He gently lifts my chin, raising my gaze to meet his eyes. It takes all of my resolve to get the words out.

"Why didn't you pick up when I called?"

"I'm sorry, I forgot my phone," he says carefully. "I'll bring it next time. Did something happen?"

I can't stand the way he's looking at me right now. Clearly he has no clue what is going on, and he doesn't quite recognize the nagging harpy girlfriend I've suddenly transformed into. Sometimes it seems like he knows what I'm feeling before I even cognizant of it. He can so easily anticipate my needs, my wants. Why doesn't he just get it now?

"You didn't think to maybe leave a note? Tell me you'd be gone for four hours?"

"I wasn't...I hadn't planned on being gone that long."

"You can't just...disappear and not tell anyone where you are. I didn't know if something had happened to you, if maybe you were hurt, or if someone had kidnapped you, or if you, if you..." I can't bring myself to finish the sentence. And I can no longer look at him.

"...if I left." He sighs. "Oh fuck...I'm sorry baby, I wasn't thinking."

"After the past couple weeks, the past few months, I don't know if I can handle any more surprises."

"I know baby, I'm so sorry."

"I mean, I don't want you to think that I'm...clingy, or trying to keep you locked down or that I don't want you to have your own life, go where you please."

I might be lying even now. Because if I'm honest, really, truly honest, the smallest weakest part of me is afraid to let him out of my sight. It's sick and irrational and I'm ashamed for feeling this way. Sometimes, I fear that if you looked inside my soul, there would be nothing but this ugly black hole. Endlessly wanting, needing to be filled. Nothing would ever be enough.

"I know. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It won't happen again. I swear." He touches my cheek lightly, turning my face.

I raise my eyes to his and I'm furious at my body for betraying me, even now. I can't hold on to the anger, not when I look at him. He's unlocked something in me, the depth of emotion that I did not know my body was capable of. I did not know it could be like this.

It's always constant, that pleasurable ache, the longing. How can you miss someone when they are right there with you? Sometimes it feels like loving someone and missing them is the same thing. He's right here, I can feel his rough palm on my face, and yet I can't escape the constant fear that he will be wrested away from me, whether by his own choice, or some unforeseen event, many scenarios that I've replayed over and over in my mind. I could still lose him. He's mine and he's not mine. I don't know how much time must pass, what do I need to hear, what do I need for him to do to believe that he's not just passing through.

"I'm not going anywhere Bella. "

I want to believe him.

We are going to Esme's house. I don't know why, they're not home and Edward is unusually silent on the matter. They just left this morning for a "surprise" romantic weekend trip to Michigan that Carlisle sprung on Esme. I could almost see her rolling her eyes over the phone, as she informed me. Edward won't tell me the reason either, just that he had something to show me and that he'd explain when we got there.

We go through the back entrance, using the secret key hidden in the ceramic turtle in the garden.

"Why don't you just get a copy made?" I ask. Esme has a key to his house, after all.

"Not my house."

He digs around in a drawer in the kitchen, until he finds an envelope. In it is a key. He turns to me, and for a moment hesitates. "There's a...I want to show you something."

He opens the door to the basement, and heads down the stairs, indicating that I should follow. He flicks on the light and it is eerily silent down here, save for the low hum of the electric bulb. It is unfinished, there are no windows, only a cold concrete floor, and cardboard boxes stacked in corners under a thick blanket of dust. I look around for Edward.

But he is not looking at me, he's pulling a large storage cabinet back about three feet. Behind it sits a metal door. It has a small window built into it, taped over on the outside with layers of duct tape. Edward unlocks the door. It opens with a low metallic groan, as if it had been sealed for many years. He stands at the entrance, glancing briefly in and then averting his eyes. He does not go in. It is a small room, a closet really, just barely high enough for him to stand. Soundproof, I'm sure. Completely empty, save for a bare twin-sized mattress.

"I'll go in a few hours before sundown Monday afternoon. I'll call, before I'm locked in. Carlisle will let me out when he gets back. And then I'll take the train to your place."

"Esme said they weren't coming home until Tuesday evening."

"I can wait."

"Edward. That's ridiculous...You shouldn't have to spend 24 hours locked up in here. I can come let you out."

"No."

"I'll wait. Until late morning if it makes you feel better. I'll bring Emmett with me."

"No. I've already talked to Carlisle about this. I'm not putting you in danger again."

"I'm not leaving you in there."

"It's fine. I've done it a million times before."

I know he has. That almost makes it worse. I hate that I'm the reason he's had to come back here.

"I don't want you anywhere near this house when it happens. No matter what."

"But I won't be-"

He cuts me off mid-sentence. "Bella, I almost killed you, more than once. I'm not taking any chances with your life. Promise me. Please. I'm begging you. Promise me that you won't come near here."

"I promise."

He looks up at me briefly, to make sure I'm taking it as seriously as he is, and then goes back to not meeting my eyes. The door closes, locking automatically. I follow him back up the stairs. I should say something, anything. I think we're both relieved to be out of the basement. Edward keeps his eyes cast down at the kitchen island, tracing the grain of the wood.

"I need to get something from upstairs."

I don't follow. He needs to be alone. And maybe I do too. His face is blank, impassive as he walks past me. I feel sick to my stomach. I can't get the image of that awful little room out of my mind. I think about what he told me, about how Carlisle drugged him. The idea of waking up locked in that cage, no memory of the previous night, in pain. And just waiting, waiting, until his father let him out.

Years of this. And now it's happening all over again, history repeating itself. It seem so unfair, this endless infinite cycle of pain and destruction, death and rebirth. How can a person endure this much misery?

I let out a low, shuddering breath. I need to compose myself before he gets back. The last thing he needs, the last thing he wants from me is pity.

He comes back empty handed. He's still not looking at me. Finally, I snap out of my self-absorption. This is not about me.

"Edward."

"We should go."

"Wait."

"I just, I fucking hate this place."

"I know you do."

Underneath that bluster, the closed exterior, lies the reason he won't meet my eyes. Shame.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," comes the automatic reply.

I laugh. I don't know why I asked. Of course he wouldn't. I'm surprised he showed me that room at all. The old Edward would probably have told me he'd take care of it, if that even, and just disappear for a few days. He's trying. I can only imagine how hard this must be for him.

He runs his hands through his hair, edgy, unnerved. Looks out the window for a while, and then back at me. Finally, he slumps down onto a bar stool. "I really fucking hate this place. I haven't been down there in years."

"When did you leave?"

"Eighteen. After he married Esme. He told her it was the wine cellar."

"And he just let you go?"

"Didn't have much of a choice. I think he was glad to be rid of me."

"Edward. That's not true."

He raises an eyebrow, but says nothing.

"You were just a kid."

I know why Carlisle did what he did, why he made those terrible choices. I don't agree with his methods, but I understand. I saw it only once, Edward's transformation, but the image will stay with me forever. The sound of bones breaking, the slick, undulating flesh, his inhuman screams. I don't know what else his father could have done. If I could spare Edward the pain, I'd do it in a heartbeat. What choice did he have?

"I told you I was thirteen when it started right? I wasn't as...consistent back then. Sometimes it would come early. Last for days. I'd be in my room, broad daylight, and the pains would start, the sweating. I'd try to get downstairs in time, but it would be too much, and I'd wake up, days later, no memory. The house would be destroyed."

He smiles then, but it comes out looking more like a grimace.

"I almost bit him once. Scratched him a few times. He thought for a whole month that he'd turn into a monster too. He started locking me up earlier, and keep me in there for days, sometimes weeks."

Days. Weeks. Years of this. He looks at me then, at the sheer horror that must be written all over my face. Shakes his head. He places a heavy hand on my hand, resting there for a while.

"It wasn't always like that. I evened out after a while, as I got older. Just like it is now."

Oh Edward. My heart breaks again and again and again. Edward. He pulls me to him, wrapping his arms around my waist, and pressing his cheek against my breast.

"It wasn't easy for him. I wasn't an easy kid to raise. All by himself."

"Edward, it's not your fault."

"I know. And it's not his fault either. I don't blame him for what he did to me. He had no choice. Anyway, it doesn't matter anymore. I don't care about any of that shit."

He's looking up at me now, with those clear green eyes. There is no bitterness, no anger. He squeezes me a little tighter. " I'm letting it go. It's past. It's done. I'm the luckiest motherfucker alive."

I count them off on my fingers. Werewolf, traumatic childhood, charlatan doctor, brain tumor. Jasper and Alice. Some luck. "I think that might be a stretch."

"No. I am lucky. Every morning, I get to wake up next to you." He holds my face in both his hands and kisses me softly. "And every night, I get to make love to you. See? Lucky."

I don't know how he does it. After all he's been through. Some might have given up a long time ago. "I think I'm the lucky one," I say.

He leans forward. We are so close, his skin so warm. His big hands drift down to encircle my waist, pressing me to him, as much as our bodies will allow. His eyes close, long lashes fluttering against my cheek.

"Why won't you run away from me?" he asks.

"Do you want me to?"

He shakes his head. Grips me tighter. "No. I never did. I always hoped you'd stay, even though I knew it was selfish of me. I wanted you to stay forever. I wanted you."

"I want you too Edward...Besides, running away is kind of your thing," I joke, but he doesn't laugh.

"I'm done running. After all this...I'm not hiding anything from you anymore."

There's something that's been bothering me for a long time. And if he's opening up about his past...I didn't know when the best time to bring it up would be, and now might not be the most appropriate time, but when is it ever?

"Edward, can I ask you something?"

He nods.

"I read your file...All those women I read about, I know it was before you met me, and I'm not like, jealous or anything."

This is a lie. I am completely, insanely jealous of every single nameless woman in that file that he ever slept with. It's irrational, I know it. I wasn't a blushing virgin when we we met. I had slept with plenty of guys before Edward, but not with as many partners as he'd had apparently. "Did you ever date any of them?"

"No."

"I'm not like, there's nothing wrong with not...dating, I just wondered, all those years..."

"I didn't date. I never thought that...this," he gestures towards me, us, "was possible. For me."

"But Jasper and Alice…"

"Jasper was crazy. If you met him, just once, you'd know. He was a wildman, he wasn't careful like me. He liked being a wolf. Loved it. And Alice...Alice was crazy too, in her own way. She used to give me so much crap for sleeping around. But I was just tired of being alone all the time."

I've thought about what Edward's life must have been like with them. It couldn't have been easy, living with another couple. As much as I like Rosalie and Emmett, when I was in the depths of my depression after leaving Edward, it was almost intolerable at times being around their joy, their happiness was so palpable. It just made the absence of that kind of love in my own life ever more apparent.

"You never had feelings for anyone?"

He hesitates. Looks down at his feet.

"Once...She didn't love me back. Not like that."

It takes a moment for that word to sink in. Love. He said love. I need to know who she is. This nameless girl out there that he loved that didn't love him back.

"I tried not to...I didn't want to feel that way about her...Especially not her. I thought, I thought maybe it was just physical, that I'd been alone too long. That if I slept with enough women, I could just get her out of my system…" He lets out a long breath.

And with creeping suspicion, the knowledge lurking in the back of my head, this hazy, half-formed thought suddenly transforms into something solid, opaque in my mind. Something in the way he spoke of her, reverent tones, the slight hesitation in his voice. Almost undetectable unless you were looking for it.

"I never did anything at first, never tried to...but she always knew."

"Did Jasper know?"

"I didn't want to feel that way. I loved Jasper too, like a brother. But yeah, he knew, eventually."

Alice. He was in love with Alice. All the air has left my lungs. I don't know what to do with this information. It changes everything. And it changes nothing.

"They used to have these fights, you could hear them for miles. Jasper had a temper on him-he would never hurt her though, he loved her. He was just loud. No filter, that guy, this constant stream, drove me crazy until I got used to it. Alice…" He laughs quietly, shaking his head. "She liked it I think, the noise, the rowdiness. She always gave as good as she got. And they'd been fighting for a while about her wanting a baby. One night, he took off in the truck. He usually came back the next day, after he'd cooled off. She didn't think anything of it because he was always doing this, always running off, stealing my truck. After the third day, she was sure he wasn't coming back. She was pissed off and we started drinking that night, and...it just happened."

"You slept with Alice."

He nods.

"How many times?"

"Just that night. We were drunk, and we shouldn't have, I should have controlled myself...we both regretted it immediately after."

The images, unbidden, flash before my eyes. Him, holding her in his arms. Making love to Alice in his bed. For some reason, the endless parade of anonymous hookups doesn't bother me, not as much as this one time.

"Is that why Jasper came to Chicago?"

He nods. "He came back, and they made up, and she found out she was pregnant a little while later. We told him then."

Just the one time. That's all it takes.

"Was it yours?"

His face darkens. He swallows thickly, as the question hangs heavy between us. "I don't know."

"How did he react?"

"Tried to kill me." His mouth quirks up slightly. Edward lifts his shirt, revealing the scar the bullet left. Not the one I gave him, but a slightly older wound. I'd seen it before, wondered where he'd gotten it. "With my own gun. I deserved it, pretty much."

"Yeah, I think so." Alice and Jasper. And a baby that was maybe his. Jesus Christ. When did life get so complicated? "Then what happened? Did he ever forgive you?"

"Yeah, that's the thing with Jasper. Short attention span. He hated me, until he forgot why." He smiled at the memory. "He didn't really want to kill me. If he did, he wouldn't have missed. I'd have let him kill me."

"And Alice?"

"He couldn't stay mad at her long. Not Alice. He said he didn't care, it was going to be half-wolf either way, and we were like brothers. That it was probably would happened anyway. The old pervert."

My eyes grow wide. "Did you ever…?"

He catches my expression and quickly corrects my assumption. "No no, it was never like that. I wouldn't have…And Alice would have shot Jasper if he'd suggested it."

Well, that's a relief. A person can only take so many revelations in one day. I almost get now why Edward was so secretive.

"He used to joke about going on Maury. Alice didn't like that, but she was just happy that he'd gotten over it so quickly. And then as she got bigger and bigger and the baby was about to come, he got spooked and took off for Chicago. You know the rest."

I do. And now I know the whole story. We sit in silence. I wonder how this changes things, if at all.

"I don't know why he forgave me. Jasper chose to forget it."

"He must have really cared about you."

He nods. We are quiet again.

Somehow, the fact that the person he was in love with was Alice, my irrational jealousy dissolves as quickly as it materialized. I want to be mad at him, or feel something other than shock. For betraying someone he called brother. For being so reckless. But the only person wronged here was Jasper, and Jasper forgave him. I decide that it is not for me to judge. The way he holds his body now, it's as if he's waiting for the blow, the rejection. He can wait forever, it's not going to happen.

"You didn't read my book, did you?"

"What?" Edward looks up, surprised at my sudden change of subject.

"My book. When I first came to your house, I thought you knew my full name because you'd read my book."

He shakes his head. "No, it wasn't mine."

"It was Alice's book."

He nods. "She left it open, face down on the coffee table, and I didn't move it for weeks after she...I used to stare at it, stare at your picture on the back cover. When you showed up, it was like...like seeing a ghost. You scared the hell out of me."

"I scared you?' I laugh. "I was absolutely certain that you hated me. You didn't speak to me for weeks. And after days and days of nothing, the first words out of your mouth were, "Take off your top."

He smiles then. I do too. I blush at the memory of that first night. God, that was so crazy, so out of character for me, but I was still hiding. I think I was trying to be another person. He was such a stranger to me then. I didn't even know what his face looked like yet.

"I've hidden things from you Bella-"

"You were trying to protect me," I interject.

He shakes his head. "You ended up getting hurt anyway. Do you remember that night you kissed me?"

How could I forget? I remember him pacing the room, his eyes constantly darting to the window. I put it together a few days later. He had shown me the workshop, the moon would be full the following night, and he had to make me leave so he said the worst possible thing. It was the only way he knew I'd be safe.

"I lied to you."

"I know."

"I don't know when it happened. We were strangers...and then one day we weren't. And I knew...I knew one day you would have to leave. That it couldn't last. Not with me."

"Edward…"

"Every time, I'd wake up and I'd expect to be alone again. But I wasn't. You stayed. I never believed that...that anyone I loved could love me back."

I stroke his face, trace the line of his cheek, the rough stubble along his jawbone. He's so beautiful...and he's mine. I pull him closer, kiss the closed eyelids, his soft lips. I run my nose along his neck, breathing in his scent.

"Have you always been this quiet?"

He nods. "Alice used to say that Jasper talked enough for the both of us."

"I like your quiet. I like that you don't speak unless you have something to say. I see you...trying so hard to be open with me. I know it can't be easy, that it goes against everything you've had to do to survive all these years."

"There's one more thing...I don't think I ever told you," he says.

He leans in. Whispers it in my ear, but I don't need to hear the words. I already know. I've always known.


	39. Chapter 39

"What time are you leaving tomorrow?"

"Two."

It's a little early. But he's being extra cautious. That should give him plenty of time to travel to his Dad's house and get settled in before the sun sets.

"Should I...do you want me to pack you some food? Maybe some whiskey? Some books in case you get bored?" I know, he's a grown man; he can pack his own dinner. I just feel the urgent need to do something productive. I can't stop it from happening, but I can at least try to make it a little less unpleasant. For Edward, this is old hat. He's been doing it for decades, like clockwork.

"Jesus Bella. He's not going to sleepaway camp. It's only for one night, and it's like, eight stops away on the el."

"I know, Rose." I throw a grape at her, which she tries to catch in her mouth and misses. "It's more like 24 hours though."

"Wah. Edward's a big boy. He can take care of himself."

He pulls me onto his lap, wrapping his arms around me. His lips curl up into a small smile. "I'll write," he tells me, slyly.

"You promise?"

"Every hour I'm gone." He places a soft kiss on the nape of my neck.

I hear Rosalie making gagging noises in the background.

"You could just text her, you know. Hell, you could facetime her. Or live tweet it. You'll be the most popular werewolf on the internet."

"Can you text?" I ask, turning to face him. I'm dubious of the technological capabilities of the burner phone that Edward bought from Walgreens. He's not a complete Luddite when it comes to this stuff, I was surprised to discover, but he doesn't seem particularly interested in it either. Cat videos don't hold his attention, for some reason.

He shakes his head. "I'd destroy it anyway."

"We could get you like, a locker or something. That you could stash all your stuff in, before it happens," I suggest.

"Okay," he agrees. Not all that bothered either way, it seems.

"Wait a second!" Rosalie says, standing up suddenly. "We should do a live feed."

"What?"

"I'll set up a camera, and we can stream it. I know a place on Western that sells them-Esme's got wifi right? What am I talking about, of course they do. I can set it up inside your cage this afternoon and then Bella can watch the whole thing happen from here tomorrow!"

He looks alarmed. "I don't think…"

"Rose-"

"It's perfect! We don't have to worry about anyone being in danger. Bella can rest easy, secure knowing exactly where you are at all times, and we can see once and for all if Banner was telling the truth."

"The truth?"

"There's only one way to know for sure. And since you won't let anyone near you, which, fair enough, I don't blame you. I certainly wouldn't volunteer for the job. Emmett might." She rolls her eyes. "I swear to God, it's all he'll talk about. If you agreed to it, he'd let you bite him in a heartbeat. Whatever. Anyway, this is our best option."

Edward looks from Rosalie to me in disbelief. "No." He shakes his head. Gently, he removes me from his lap. He stands up to leave, except Rosalie won't let him pass.

"Rose, let him go," I plead.

"Are you hearing me? Don't you want to know if you're cured?"

"What the hell are you talking about Rosalie? There's no fucking 'cure'," he grinds out.

"How can you be sure? No one saw you go full wolf last month."

"I know."

"How do you know? You were passed out!"

"On animal tranquilizers. That I ate when I was a fucking wolf."

"Maybe you did, maybe you didn't. We have no proof. And even if you are still a damned werewolf, Bella would feel a lot better knowing where you are. Don't you want to give her some peace of mind for a change? Haven't you put the poor girl through enough shit?"

"Rose!" I cry out.

She looks at me, almost sheepish for a split-second, but not quite sheepish enough. She is not yet willing to back down. If I'm honest, I don't think it's a terrible idea. I've been dreading tomorrow night. But obviously, I wouldn't go through with it if Edward wasn't comfortable with it, which clearly, he is not.

Edward is watching me now. His shoulders drop, all the fight drained from his body.

"Do you want this Bella?"

"No," I reply automatically, but my voice sounds unconvincing and he knows I don't mean it.

He doesn't say anything for a long time. He glares at Rosalie some more, before saying to me, "I don't want you to watch me turn. Before and after is fine...Just not during."

"Why? What's the big deal? It's nothing she hasn't seen before," Rose pipes in.

I know why. Once was enough. I won't ever be able to forget what I saw that night. Or what I heard. I'm ashamed to admit to myself that I don't want to watch him suffer.

"Are you sure?"

He nods. "I don't want you to worry about me."

"I would just feel better, knowing."

"Okay," he says. "What do I have to do?"

"You don't have to do anything, Eddie. I'm on it," Rose beams.

A few hours later, we are back in Esme's basement, with a brand new surveillance camera. Rosalie, oblivious to Edward's discomfort, is happily setting everything up. The guy at the camera store assured her that this was the most popular model, motion activated, so it had a great battery life. It could go for weeks without a charge, but we only need it for this one night. I know she loves new gadgets, but I'm kind of appalled at first at how blissful she is. She read his file, she knows exactly what went on here, maybe not to the extent that I do. And she hasn't had the benefit of witnessing with her own two eyes, just how harrowing the transformation actually is.

But as she's explaining how it works, so matter of fact, I think perhaps her blasé attitude is the right one, because eventually, Edward stops pacing. He's making eye contact again. It's almost ordinary. No one would ever accuse Rosalie Hale of being tactful, but part of the reason we got in trouble in the past was all the secrecy that surrounded Edward's condition. I'm trying to be conscious of his feelings, but maybe all the tiptoeing is doing more harm than good. Reinforcing the idea that the way he was born is something that he should be ashamed of. In her own inimitable manner, Rose has cut through all the bullshit. He's a werewolf. So what? Let's put him on camera.

We decided, since the room was so small, the ceilings so low, it wouldn't be so practical to monitor him from inside. Edward pulled the layers of duct tape off that little window and she mounted the camera on the outside of the door. A few clicks later, and there was a live feed streaming through my laptop.

"Man, Emmett is going to be so bummed out that he's missing the show. You know, there is an option to record," Rosalie says.

"No."

"I had to ask."

I didn't sleep last night. It's still dark, I can just barely see his silhouette, moving quietly through my room. Maybe he hears me, or just feels me watching him, but he slips back under the covers behind me. A large hand slides over the swell of my hip, pulling me to him. I curl into the warmth of his body.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't. Can't sleep. Are you going for a run?"

"Don't worry baby. It's going to be fine."

"I know. I can't help it."

"I'm sorry."

I roll over to face him. "No. You're not going to keep apologizing for this. Look, a few days out of the month I'm not myself either."

"Bella…"

"No. I know a period is not the same thing. But both of those things are out of our control. I'm not going to apologize for pms and neither should you." I realize this metaphor is a bit muddy, but he gets it.

"Okay."

His fingers fan lightly across my stomach, just a flutter, barely touching me. He knows exactly what he's doing. He stops moving suddenly.

"Which pill are you on? There's birth control you could take where you don't get a period. I think um, Lybrel? And then there's the one where you get it four times a year. Seasonale."

"Edward Cullen, when did you get so knowledgeable about women's reproductive health?"

"I've been reading up on it. I would get a vasectomy. I've tried, multiple times. It just never takes."

Of course it wouldn't. By the next full moon, everything would be as it was before. I'm touched. Really. The thought of Edward Cullen wading through WebMD to learn about birth control just...it kind of kills me. "Well...since you brought it up, I started getting the shot about a week ago. Depo Provera. Four times a year. It's more reliable than the pill, less room for human error. We can still use condoms too, if that makes you feel better."

He nods.

"That's what I thought. We can do that too." Then a something occurs to me, that I'd been meaning to ask him. I realized a while ago that we probably should have had this talk before he ever had his penis inside of me. Well, we never did do anything in the right order.

"When you were...out slutting it up, did you use protection?"

He smiles a little sheepishly at my word choice. "I always used a condom, and I never ah, came inside them. I always pulled out...Well, except with Alice. That was..."

"Unexpected?"

He nods.

"Okay, but I have to ask-have you been tested?"

"I don't get sick-usually," he adds, pointing at his head. "Viruses, diseases, they don't stick. And Carlisle tested me again, a few weeks ago, just to be sure."

I nod. Yes, that's what I'd figured. My head is still reeling from the revelations of the past 24 hours. But I think ultimately...I'm not bothered by it. It was before me. We all have things in our own pasts that we'd like to scrub from the record. And mostly, I just don't care. They don't matter. I know how he feels about me, and nothing in his past can touch that.

"Bella, I know you told me not to do this anymore, but...are you sure this is what you want? You, you can look past what I am, but this life, I couldn't do that to a child, to an innocent. I can't risk passing on this condition. And you...there's the chance that you'd…

That I wouldn't survive it. Like his mother. Maybe even Alice would have, if she'd been able to give birth. Maybe it's a prerequisite to being a werewolf. Born out of death. Doomed to repeat this cycle again and again. Each month, it's as if he dies and is reborn all over again.

"I know Edward."

"Being with me, you'd be throwing your life away. Throwing away the chance to live normally. Have a family if you wanted."

"Edward. Stop trying to break up with me."

"I don't want to break up with you. I just-"

"You're trying to convince me that you're not good enough. It's not going to work. Listen to me. I'm not throwing anything away. I'm here because I want to be here. When I left you and came here, and was living on my own, I realized something about myself. I could live without you. I could survive, I could move on eventually, but...I don't want that. I don't want to get over you. I choose you. I'll always choose you. Don't you get that? "

I can see him, still resisting, unable to let the words sink in. A part of him, the self-loathing part, still doesn't believe, doesn't want to believe. Doesn't trust it. "I can't give you children."

I've debated this question for years, more of late, for obvious reasons, and I still don't quite know how I feel on the matter. I never had that maternal drive that some women seem to be born with. But sometimes...the idea sounds, almost intoxicating and I wonder where this previously unknown desire has been hiding. And just as quickly, it is gone.

"I don't know. I don't know yet. Look, I'm 27. After what I…" I let out a deep breath. There's no point in beating around the bush. "After the miscarriage, I realized that...I don't want a kid right now. I don't know if that will change in the future. Sometimes...I think I do. But if it does, we have options. We can still have a family. There's adoption. There's artificial insemination. That is, if you're open to the idea. Not now, but some day."

He's silent for a long time. "I don't know if I'd be a good father." There is doubt, uncertainty in his voice.

"Edward...you're a good man. You're kind, and you're honest, and you're caring. You'd be a good father. I'm sure of it."

He's quiet. I don't know if he believes me. He hasn't had the best role model, I suppose. After some time, he says, "You'll be a really good mother someday Bella."

He draws me in closer, kissing the top of my head. Someday.

"Okay, so we should be ready to go. Just click on this here...and voila! Your wolf man. Well, his empty cage. What time is he going in?" Rosalie asks.

"He's just called me to tell me he's at the house. He said he'll go in around 5pm."

"Whoa," Emmett says. "It's a lot smaller than I thought it would be. Can E even stand up in there?"

"Just barely."

"Man."

"Yeah." Emmett gets it.

"What was it like? Does he look like a regular wolf? Or is it some hybrid, wolf man thing?"

I hesitate, not sure if this is something that Edward would want me to share with them. But I'm trying to normalize it. And it's just Emmett. He knows how to be discrete, even if his girlfriend does not. Rosalie is well out of earshot by now.

"He's a wolf...just bigger. Like, much bigger. Gray fur."

"Wow."

I think this is the first time it is really sinking in with Emmett that this is real. He's only heard second hand accounts. Rosalie returns a moment later, twirling her keys on one perfectly manicured finger.

"B, if you need anything, like there's something wrong with the feed or whatever, call me. Don't do anything stupid, like say, go to Esme's house to check on Edward. He told me ten times to ask you not to. We both know how stubborn you can be."

"Okay. I won't."

"Are you sure you don't want to come along? I'm sure we could pick you up a ticket." They're driving up to Milwaukee today, to see the Bulls play the...Milwaukee basketball team? Apparently Emmett got really cheap seats in the 100 level, hence the almost two hour drive to watch a bunch of genetic outliers run around for a few hours. If I think about it, not too different from what I will be doing tonight.

"I'm sure. Sports are not really my thing."

"Alright then. We'll be back around midnight. Em, we should really leave now. I need to get some gas before we go."

"My tank is full. We can take my car."

"Okay, but I'm driving." She tosses her keys back on the coffee table, grabbing Emmett's set. "Bye B, I'll bring you back some cheese curds! Have fun sexting Edward!"

They leave me a little bit later, staring at my computer screen. I keep watching, waiting for something to happen, but there's no movement yet. There's a bit of audio, just the sound of an almost empty house. Edward making some noise upstairs, the groan of floorboards creaking, but not much else.

Now, I wait.

4:58PM

I'm ready. I've got my laptop open, plugged in so my battery doesn't die on me, and a bottle of white wine. He said he'd call when he went in. Emmett offered to procure some more tranquilizers from Mike's dad, but Edward declined. He said the whiskey was enough. I plan on keeping him on the phone for as long as I can. According to my weather app, we have about an hour and a half before moonrise.

My phone lights up, and I dive for it, answering before the first ring has a chance to complete.

"Hello?"

"Bella. I'm going in."

"I'm watching the camera right now, but I don't see you."

"I don't get reception down there..."

"So you can't...Oh crap."

"I'm sorry."

"Well, I can still see you, at least."

"Please don't...don't worry about me. I'll be fine. You'll see. I'll be asleep for most of it."

"I know."

"I'm sorry baby, I have to go now."

"Okay. Take care of yourself Edward."

"Take care of yourself Bella. I love you."

"I love you too."

He hangs up. I don't like this. We had it all worked out, but I never accounted for shitty cell phone reception.

A short while later, I hear his footsteps as he walks down the stairs to the basement. I hear the sound of a key turning, the metal groan as the door opens and then slams shut behind him. Silence again. I was disappointed at first, that we had to mount the camera outside, which meant there would be no audio too. But now I see him enter the cell, just the back of his head. He can just stand up, the ceilings are so low. He turns around to the camera, and looks right at it, gives me a little wave and a smile, even though I can tell his heart's not into it. I watch as he removes his clothes, folding them neatly and placing them in the metal container I found in the garage. Wolf proof, I hope. Edward lets out a deep breath, and sinks down on the mattress. How many times has he done this?

He opens the bottle and takes a swig.


	40. Chapter 40

40

He's reading a book. Every other page or so, he takes a sip from the whiskey. He's almost half-way through the bottle. I can see that there's a slight wobble, his movements slower than usual. I wonder if he'll make it through the whole thing before he passes out.

This is seriously fucked up. I'm sitting on my bed, sipping on a glass of white wine, watching a live feed of my boyfriend in a cage, bare ass naked, drinking himself into a stupor. And if all goes as planned, he will turn into a wolf. Or maybe not.

I've wondered if what we've experienced is so different from what normal people in love go through. No matter how much you love the other person, you can't save them. You can't even save yourself. So you watch them make the same mistakes over and over again, and you're powerless to do anything about it. Because people don't change. Not really. That new haircut, the new city, the new boyfriend, these superficial things, they have no bearing on who we are.

I can't save him. And he can't save me. All we can do is learn to live with ourselves, learn how to survive, adapt, maybe even thrive with the hand we've been dealt. And if we're lucky, we have someone to go through that with.

So I wait. And I watch.

...

He looks up from his reading, body suddenly very very still, turning his head to the side, as if he's listening for something. He mouths a word, I think he says "Bella?", but obviously I can't hear him. Setting the book and bottle down, I see him stand, and look directly at the camera.

Is it happening now? It's way too early. My weather app has the moon rise at 6:30. It shouldn't occur for another hour at least. He's suddenly pressed up against the door, all I can see is the iris of one green eye, darting around through the glass window. What is he looking at? What did he hear? Did Carlisle come home early? But that wouldn't make any sense. With a great lurch backward, he throws himself away from the door, frantically tossing out the contents of the metal container he brought in with him. He throws it to the ground, and then seizes upon the whiskey bottle by the neck and slams it against the wall, shattering the glass. I can't hear the sound but I jump as if a bomb had gone off in my room. Oh my God. Oh my fucking God.

He stands there with barely concealed rage on his face, looking directly at the camera. I grab my phone to dial 911, it rings and rings, and then a woman's voice on the other side, "Hello? Hello? Are you there?" Tinny and far away as I drop it to my lap and hang it up...What would I tell them? My boyfriend is a werewolf, and and, I don't know, I don't understand what the fuck is going on. I try Rosalie's phone, but it rings endlessly. No answer from Emmett either. I'm staring at the computer screen, about to hit redial, when I hear the sound of footsteps.

"Rose?"

I think it's coming from inside my apartment. But I'm the only one home and I didn't hear her key in the door. I realize the sound is getting louder...and it's coming from my computer. Someone walking down those basement steps. Closer and closer. Edward's mouth is set in a thin line, eyes narrowed, his fists white knuckled, clutching that broken bottle. He's almost vibrating with rage. All of a sudden, the image judders, there is the blur of movement, and then the screen goes black.

Black. There is no picture, but still audio. I hear the sound of a key being fitted into a lock. The lock turning. The metal door slowly creaking open.

Then clearly, a man's voice: "Put down the bottle Edward."

Oh my God.

"Don't come any closer. I'm just here to talk. Calm down."

Silence.

"Not another step."

There is the sound of metal clicking. I'm scrambling, scrambling to place the noise, mind screaming with sudden horror when I realize it's the safety of a gun being removed. All the oxygen has left my body, my blood screaming in my ears. He is trapped on the other side of that screen, somewhere in that impenetrable darkness. And there is nothing I can do.

Two shots fired.

I scream. The sound strangled in my throat. No. No. This is not happening. _No. No. Not is not happening. Oh my god oh my god._

I can hardly recognize the mangled sounds coming from my body, animal, inhuman screams. I crumple to the ground, feeling as though the bullet had pierced my skin.

I lie there, boneless for what feels like an eternity. And then just barely, through my ragged breathing, I hear him. Gasping for breath. He's not dead. He's not dead yet. Edward is not dead. I bolt from my bed. I spot Rosalie's car keys and grab them on my way out the door. I'm in a blind panic, as I shift into reverse, pulling out on to the street, screeching tires, just narrowly missing hitting another parked car. Oh God he's still alive. I'm going to kill that bastard. I'm gonna kill Banner. I'm going to murder him for what he did to Edward.

He's still alive. He's still alive. I'm tearing down Lake Shore Drive, hoping I don't get pulled over, hoping that he'll still be breathing when I get there. Edward's still alive. I don't know what I'll do. I have no weapon and I'm kicking myself now for not at least grabbing that baseball bat of Rosalie's leaning inside the coat closet. I'll kill him with my bare hands if I have to.

I'm frantically hitting dial redial on my phone, silently screaming in frustration, when Emmett finally picks up. I can barely hear him, he has to yell into the phone to be heard over the roar of the crowd.

"Hey B, Bulls are up by 14. What's going on?"

"Emmett! It's Edward! Banner is-Banner shot him!"

The line is silent, as he registers what I am saying. "What? Fuck. Fuck! Oh fuck! Did you call the cops yet?!"

"I can't! If he turns, when they're there, they'll, they'll lock him up forever like some science experiment!"

"Oh Jesus. Okay, stay where you are. We're coming home right now, we'll get there as soon as we can. Don't do anything stupid! Don't go near Banner he's dangerous, you hear me?! Bella? Bella?!"

I hang up on him. I leave the phone in the car. I'm here.

The house is unlit, undisturbed, no sign of forced entry. Too quiet. No sign of Edward. I slip through the gate, walking down the narrow pathway on the side of the house that leads to the back yard. I look in the ceramic turtle for the key. Empty. I try the back door. It's unlocked.

Quietly, I open the door slowly. The kitchen is dark, just barely illuminated by the light of the street lamp. Walls and surfaces rendered in grayscale in the dim light. As silently as I can, I pull a large kitchen knife out of the knife block and tiptoe my way to the door to the basement. A sliver of yellow light glows around the doorway. I swallow a deep breath, a silent prayer for what I will find behind it. Please please let him be alive. I put my hand on the knob and turn.

"I thought I recognized you."

A man's voice. I freeze. I whip around to face him.

"Put the knife down Bella. Slowly, if you please."

He steps out of the shadows. Banner is standing just feet away from me, a gun in his hand, pointed directly at me. He looks disheveled, in a sweat-stained, rumpled dress shirt that appears to have been worn for many days straight, but despite his unkempt appearance he seems pulled together, perfectly calm. He nods to the ground. Not taking my eyes off of him, I slowly lower myself, place it down by my feet.

"Now kick it toward me. Not too hard."

I comply. He picks up the knife gingerly.

"Open the door and walk down the stairs. Don't try anything foolish."

I feel the cool metal at the small of my back, prodding me forward. I walk down the stairs slowly, deliberately. It is completely silent down here too. No sign of Edward. When we reach the bottom of the stairs, I see that the door to his cell is closed.

"Edward?"

"Edward is fine. Don't worry him. Now, I need you to open the door. The key is on the ground."

I bend down to pick up the key. I unlock the door and I cry out when I see him. Edward is sitting on the ground, broken glass and a pool of blood around him. But he's alive.

"Bella?"

"Edward!" I run to him, falling to my knees. The look on his face is one of agony, confusion, disbelief. The blood seems to be coming from his legs, his ankles, but the rest of him is unharmed, as far as I can tell.

"Why are you...You're not supposed to be here," he pleads.

"Are you okay Edward?"

"He's going to be fine. I shot his feet. He's not going anywhere," Banner answers from the doorway. We both look back at him. He tosses into the cell plastic zip ties and gestures toward Edward with the gun. "Put these on him."

I look at Edward. "Do it Bella."

"No funny business okay Bella? I don't want to hurt you but I will if you do not cooperate. And I'm assuming you don't have the same healing abilities as your boyfriend?" He looks sharply at me."Or do you?"

"No, no, she's normal, leave her alone. Please."

Banner takes my measure. "That's what I thought. Now pull them tight...show me."

I wrap the tie around Edward's wrists, securing it tightly. There's no way out. He is devastated. Absolutely devastated, the green eyes bloodshot. He strokes my cheek with his manacled hands, brushing away a tear.

"Maybe now that your girlfriend is here, you'll be more forthcoming? I should have done this earlier, don't you think? Would have made your sessions much more productive. We could have made real progress." Banner smiles, pleased at his own joke. He looks down at his watch. "I'm aware of the time constraints, so I'll make this quick. Who are you working with?"

"No one."

"Cut the crap Edward. How did you get out of the hospital."

"I'm not working with anyone. Her roommate is a hacker. She shut down the power."

Banner gives me a long, hard stare.

"Where is Jasper Whitlock?"

"Gone."

Up until now, Banner has been pleasant, almost polite. His face shifts into something ugly, and he forcefully grabs my arm, dragging me to my my feet, a rough hand around my neck. He holds the cool metal of the gun against my temple.

"He's dead! Jasper's dead!" Edward cries out.

"I don't believe you. Stop lying to me Edward. I don't have time for this."

"I swear to you, he's dead! He shot himself in the mouth! I buried him! Please, please, don't hurt her!"

Banner gapes at him.

"When? When did this happen?"

"About a year ago. He killed Alice and then he shot himself."

I feel Banner's hands slacken. He looks down at me, as if seeing me for the very first time. He throws me back at Edward. I stumble, but catch myself before I fall. Edward pulls me to him, placing his body between me and Banner. There's so much blood, obscenely red against the pale white of his skin.

Banner looks from me to Edward, and then back again.

"How do you know he killed her?"

"I just know. I found them. Covered in blood. He got out somehow. Attacked her in the woods. He killed Alice."

"Where are the bodies?"

"Buried near the house."

Banner stares down at the gun. Back up at Edward. He chews the inside of his cheek, then looks down at his watch. "Turn around and put your hands behind your back. Don't try anything Edward or I will shoot her."

I look at Edward, pleading silently to him that he should comply. He is white-knuckled, the veins throbbing, but he doesn't move. Banner restrains my wrists behind my back, giving me slight shove.

"Go kneel in that corner," he says to me. "I'm going to take some blood samples from you Edward. You seem to have recovered nicely, but I doubt even you could survive a bullet wound through the brain stem. How is your head, by the way?"

Edward glares at him, stone faced. Banner nods at me. Edward replies, "Cancer free."

Banner shakes his head, a thin, creepy smile on his lips. "Remarkable. Absolutely remarkable. I wouldn't believe it, if I hadn't seen for myself. All this time...the cure for every disease imaginable, walking around in plain sight."

He steps away, and then comes back a moment later with a plastic bag, filled with what look like glass vials and syringes

"Don't do anything stupid. If you cooperate, no one needs to get hurt. I can still get what I need, even if you're dead, but I'd rather avoid that option if possible. " He ties a strap around Edward's arm, and begins to fill the little vials. I don't know if lycanthropy works like that. If he has to be transformed for the blood to have any effect, but I'm not going to point that out to Banner.

…

"Please. Don't...That's enough, he's given too much."

Banner ignores me, just checks the progress of the blood bags.

"You'll kill him."

"He'll be fine. He can survive anything."

"Not if you drain him first. He's already lost so much blood."

"That's a risk I'm willing to take."

"Please. Please just let him go. You have enough. He never did anything to hurt anyone. He doesn't deserve this. Please, Dr. Banner."

By now, Edward is starting to droop, the eyelids heavy. He crumples, collapsing into a pile on the ground. I gasp. Banner puts a hand out, to stop me from moving to him, and checks Edward's pulse.

"He's fine."

"It's not a cure for anything."

"You're wrong there. Minor and major lacerations." Here, he turns Edward's head to the side, examining the nearly nonexistent scar on his head. "Do you know how many times I've cut him open? It's as if it never happened. He bounced right back, every time. Every illness imaginable, even cancer."

"But it's not some panacea, you have to become, you become a werewolf. That's how it's works."

"I know. It's worth it."

"It's not. You don't understand," I plead.

"No. You don't know what you're talking about."

"I wouldn't wish his condition upon anybody. Nobody should live like this. You haven't seen it. I have. It's awful, it's…unimaginable pain."

Banner removes the needle, securing the last blood bag.

"Be that as it may, I don't have any options left at this point. If this is the choice I have to make, then it is the choice I will make."

What is he talking about? What choice? "You don't have to do this."

He gathers his things, standing to leave. He lingers in the doorway of the cell for a minute. Pauses, looks at the gun, and then turns around to face me.

"I'm sorry this had to happen. If there were any other way... I'm sorry Bella. Tell Edward I'm sorry too."

He makes to close the door, but I cry out.

"Stop! Please. Let me out."

"I can't do that."

"You can't leave me in here. He'll...kill me. Like Alice. Please don't-"

"Jasper didn't kill her."

"What?"

"If he had only stayed, just a few more weeks...We were close. But then Jasper ran off before I could finish my, finish the trials. It was an accident. No one was supposed to get hurt."

"What are you saying?" I ask.

"Alice. The little brunette. I only wanted to, I just needed to get a few more samples, run some tests. It would have been fine if he had just done what he was supposed to do. I wouldn't have had to go up there to find him, I wouldn't have had to…"

"You? You...killed Alice?" I ask, disbelieving.

"No...I didn't kill her. It was an accident. She saw me, and thought I was trying to hurt him, I wasn't, I swear! I just needed a few more samples. I was pulling him out of that building when she saw me. I tried to stop her but she ran, she ran and she slipped and fell, and she went into labor. I couldn't move her, it was too late, and I had no choice, I had to try to deliver the baby right there in the woods...There was severe hemorrhaging. She didn't make it. And I had to decide, if I couldn't save the mother, I could try to save the baby, so I...cut her open."

"Jasper...he didn't?"

"No. He never hurt her. It was an accident. A tragic accident."

An accident. He's standing in front of me, telling me these lies. Maybe he believes it, but I sure as hell don't.

"No. You didn't pull the trigger, but you may as well have. It's their blood on your hands. Alice. Jasper. Their baby. And if you leave me in here, you can add two more."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry that it happened. But I had no choice."

"There's always a choice."

"No. Not anymore."

"Please let me go."

"I can't."

"If you let me go, we won't follow you, I swear. We just want to be left alone."

"I can't risk it. You know too much."

Banner turns again to leave, but stops. Weighing something in his mind. He looks back one last time at Edward's prone body. He picks up the knife at his feet and kicks it toward me.

"I'm sorry."

He slams the door shut behind him. I hear the lock turn, the metal click. Silence.

I dive for the knife. My wrists are bound tightly behind me, making it difficult to maneuver. I try to slide it between, to cut the plastic tie but end up slicing myself instead. The cut is shallow but I hiss at the pain, the warm blood running over my hands, making it even more impossible. I look down at Edward, and he's still alive thank God, but his skin looks pale and clammy, almost translucent. I focus on the task at hand, repositioning until I hear a snap, as the tie breaks. Now what?

I shake the door handle but of course it is sealed shut. I go to the wall opposite and run at the door, shoving my shoulder into it as hard as I can, enough to leave bruises tomorrow. If there is a tomorrow. I look down again, to Edward on the floor. Except it is no longer Edward. Rosalie was completely wrong. There is no cure. There never was one. He's moving now, the body shifting, undulating, rippling muscle and torn flesh, bones snap and crack and break. I've seen it once before, the images seared into my mind. But this, seeing it was so much worse. He screams, but it is longer his voice that comes out, the sound is excruciating, nothing human left behind.

I sink to the ground, surprised to find I am still clutching the knife in my hands. They are covered in blood. My own blood. I know why Banner left it for me. He wants me to finish the job he started. Kill Edward as he lies unconscious. Save myself. I let it fall from my hands, clatter on the concrete. I close my eyes. There is always a choice.

Darkness. And the sound of a body destroying itself. The smell of sweat, and blood, and my tears. When I open my eyes again, he is gone, the wolf is in his place. I watch the rise and fall of his breath. He's awake, slow, unsteady, just gaining his bearings. The front legs slip easily out of the plastic zip tie. The back legs, wounded, fur matted with dark red, but still he manages to rise up. He turns to face me, the eyes golden. I never break his gaze as he stalks toward me, silent. The knife lays between us.

I'm sorry Edward. I love you. I'm sorry. I can't hurt you. I hope you can forgive me for putting this terrible burden on you. I hope you can forgive youself. I can't do it. I won't do it. I close my eyes and see his face, his real, human face. I feel his warmth, his heat, his arms around me. His heart beat, always a few beats too fast. He always felt more alive. He always felt...more. Like he was better at living than the rest of us. He saw me, as I truly was, and he accepted me. And he loved me. And I know, that if I had to do it all over again, even knowing how it ends, I'd have done the same. I would love him still.

And then when he is close enough for me to feel him breathing, hot on my cheek, I open my eyes one last time, and the wolf, he lays his head upon my lap.


End file.
